


And Soon, You Shall Pray at My Knees

by Stranded_In_The_Cosmos



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abusive Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale just wants to be good, Crowley Just Wants To Be Loved (Good Omens), Demon/Human Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Fat Shaming, Fem!Crowley, Food problems, How Do I Tag, I have a beta every so often, I will update tags as I go, Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), No beta we fall like Crowley most of the time, Nun Aziraphale, Physical Abuse, fem!aziraphale, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 31,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stranded_In_The_Cosmos/pseuds/Stranded_In_The_Cosmos
Summary: Crowley, on assignment from Hell, is to tempt a nun. The demon doesn't want to, she wants a meaningful relationship, which by all standards is impossible for her. But, facing torment in Hell for who knows how long is a pretty good motivator.Aziraphale is a nun who wants nothing more than to be good and kind, but she keeps tripping over her faults, which by all standards, makes her a bad nun. She wants a relationship, but she's shoved that wish deep down because of outside sources, and who would want to be with the chubby nun who can't do anything right anyway?They just might prove each other wrong.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 285
Kudos: 182





	1. Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is loosely based off one of my other works, 'Sweet Nun, Bad Demon' I apologize if this isn't great, I'm trying!

There are many entrances to Hell. Demons have been known to use the back entrances on certain occasions. Mostly when Beelzebub was rumored to be pissed that day.

But when Crowley went to report to Hell, or get a new assignment, she usually took the direct route.

-

“Lord Beelzebub, my terrible prince, how am I to serve you today?” Crowley knelt on one knee before the prince, dramatically bowing. A wide, sarcastic grin on her face, showing a mouth full of far too many teeth, possibly.

The prince of Hell wasn’t as amused as Crowley seemed to be. “Cut the zzzhit Crawley,”

“Crowley,” The ginger corrected. “It’s Crowley, it has been for thousands of years Beelzebub,”

Beelzebub sighed. “Whatever. I’m not interested in arguing your name. I’ve brought you here on azzignment. Need you to lead a nun astray from her holy life. She’zzz a right saint, could be one if zzhe climbs the rankzz properly. Knock her off that ladder,”

Crowley sighed. “And just how do you expect me to tempt such a saint?”

“Well…” Beelzebub trailed off, a sinister grin forming on their face. “Nunzz around there tend to have terrible sex-ed. And I’ve zzeen them fall to even to slightest temptation of finding out juzzt what everyone’zz been badmouthing. And you are quite the looker-“

“No!” Crowley shouted, entirely undemonic for such disgust at a quite simple sin. “Not my department! Knowledge, greed, envy, wrath, something of that nature I can handle! If you want lust damnation, get Asmodeus!”

The prince only laughed. “Well, Asmodeus is buzzy at the moment, performing another political scandal in America. But, if you’re going to baulk, I suppozze that Hastur or Ligur could do it. Heavenzzz, I could do it myzzelf. I do wonder what damning someone zzo pure would feel like. I’m zzure it’d feel _great_ ,”

Crowley almost gags. Beelzebub is forcing her hand, she knows this, but the thought of Beelzebub, or any demon other than maybe Asmodeus, having their hands on a human being like _that._ A nun no less, makes her sick.

 _They’d rip her to shreds;_ Crowley’s mind tells her.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll do it!” Crowley relents. “I’ll take the assignment,”

Beelzebub smirks. “Good. And you better not be zzzoft on her. Zzzome of uzz are zztarting to worry about you Crowley. You’ve been spending a lot of the time with the humanzz,”

Crowley swallows. “Just give me the damn address,”

“Of course,” Beelzebub snaps their fingers and Dagon appears at their side. “Give her what she needzz and get her out of my sight,”

“Yes, my lord,” The lord of the files just shoves a yellow file, with what might be blood on it. Crowley doesn’t ask, doesn’t want to know either. “Everything you need to know is in there. You shouldn’t be able to fail from what we know. But we’ll be keeping an eye on you from time to time Crowley,” She states professionally.

“Great,” The ginger bites down a groan. Of course, Hell had to watch as she tempted a random human to lust. They were going to eat her alive, quite literally, when they found out.

“Now get out,” Dagon glared.

“Right. Ciao!” Crowley almost ran out like a scared rabbit rather than the calm saunter of a serpent that should be chasing said rabbit. Wait? Did snakes eat rabbits? Crowley wasn’t sure.

-

Crowley threw the file into the backseat of the Bentley the moment she arrived back at her car. Not wanting to even think about it now.

“Fuck,” She whispered to the Bentley as she climbed into the driver’s seat. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” She slammed her palms against the steering wheel, causing the car to honk in retaliation.

“Sorry old girl,” Crowley smoothed her hands over the wheel. “Bad day. Hell, and shit. How’s about we go for a drive? I need to blow off some steam,”

Crowley was never sure if it was her imagination or if the Bentley really did get a mind of its own after spending so long with the demon, but it hardly mattered if the car could go and go fast. The car started itself and Crowley didn’t waste a second putting rubber to asphalt as she sped off. Sixty miles per hour in only three seconds. Slower than normal, but not to bad.

Killer Queen, what was probably a Velvet Underground album once, started blasting as the demon narrowly avoided killing someone.

“Take over for a bit,” Crowley told her car, reaching into the glovebox for a bottle of wine. “I need to be severely drunk to deal with this right now,”

The Bentley did as told and Crowley got incredibly drunk with more wine than should’ve been in the bottle she had.

-

“S’not my fault I Fell!” Crowley had begun drunkenly rambling to her car. And if she was sober, she’d call it sad. “I just wanted answers! But nah! Just got thrown into a pit of boiling sulfur at a million light years a second! I mean! Come on!”

The Bentley made the thirteenth round across the M25 and Crowley felt her stomach lurch.

Crowley waited for her stomach to settle before continuing. “I mean, what’s so bad with not wanting to fuck any-any human that comes across your path? S’not that I don’t want to get laid! I just don’t want it to be meaningless, y’know?”

The Bentley did not answer.

“You get it,” Crowley said anyway. “Hell’s just a bitch,”

*Several more bottles of wine later*

“I know I have to do it,” Crowley finished off her wine. “S’just a load of bullshit that they forced me to. I mean, why should I do it? I’ve got nothing to lose. Why should I do it?”

The Bentley started playing ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ at the start of the ‘Havin’ a good time’ part then cut off again.

“I already told you, I don’t want a meaningless shag!”

The Bentley did it again.

“Fine, your right,” Crowley conceited. “But I don’t like the idea that I might not want to stop,”

The Bentley started ‘We Will Rock You’ at ‘Come on!’ and switched off again.

“You’re right old girl,” Crowley finished off her miraculously conceived bottle that she didn’t even know she was drinking. “Take us home,”


	2. Cherry Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale just wants to be good, even for the worst of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Big warning right here! Aziraphale is heavily abused physically and emotionally. Just warning y'all. Also, yes, the title is inspired by Hozier's Cherry Wine! Enjoy!

Many a year ago, a small Nunnery came into possession of an infant girl. Given to the Church by her parents, to be raised under the roof of God and sworn in as a nun. The little girl’s name was Aziraphale, and as the Church promised her parents, she became a nun.

-

Aziraphale tapped her foot against the tiled floor, she’d tried to stop it earlier, to no avail. She was also wringing her hands, hard.

“It’s just Father Gabriel,” Aziraphale chided herself. “Silly girl, you’re overreacting,” She repeated the phrase in her head, _Silly girl_. _Silly girl. Silly girl._ It didn’t help her much. Her hands still wrung, and her foot still tapped. But, in some way it assured her that all this nervousness was for nothing, and so it could stop.

After what feels like hours but might very well have been five or ten minutes, Father Gabriel steps out. A tight smile on his face, and Aziraphale wants to pretend it’s a genuine. His deep blue, almost violet eyes were falsely friendly. And Aziraphale knows then she’s in for it.

“Aziraphale,” Father Gabriel is one step away from gritting. “How nice to see you, would you come in?”

Aziraphale nodded, standing up and brushing off imaginary dust from her robes. “Of course, sir-er-Father,”

Gabriel opened the door and let her enter first. “Please sit-down Sister,”

Aziraphale did as told and looked up to Gabriel, who closed and locked the door behind him as he went to stand at his desk.

“Aren’t, aren’t you going to sit sir?” Aziraphale asked.

“We need to talk, as I’m sure you’ve already figured out Sister,” Gabriel stated, ignoring Aziraphale’s question.

“I-I’m not sure what about Father,” Aziraphale inwardly cursed at her stuttering. “I-I’ve done the additional assignments you’ve given me. Julie is doing far better with her lessons, and-“

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about sunshine,” Gabriel cut her off. “Do you remember what I told you last time we talked. Right at the end, very simple. Only three words, very easy to remember. So do you remember sunshine?”

Aziraphale swallowed the lump in her throat. “You told me, to-to…” The words caught in her throat.

“ _To lose the gut_ ,” Father Gabriel finished for her, a dark look in his eyes. “I remember it very clearly, and you say you do as well. So, why, do tell, have you not done that?”

Aziraphale squirmed and looked down. “Father, I have been trying, I promise you. I’ve been busy and skipping breakfast like you recommended sir, I promise,”

“Have you now?” Father Gabriel caught her chin with his fingers. “Don’t lie to me child. I don’t want to remind you what happens to liars. So, tell me, why hasn’t it been done?”

Aziraphale swallowed nervously. “I-um-I, well, I…” Her throat seemed to close, strangling any words she might’ve mustered. “I may have, hypothetically, just hypothetically Father, been busy enough, to-um forget?”

Gabriel’s hold on her jaw tightened painfully. His icy glare seemed to make the air crackle with lightning around them.

Gabriel, without the slightest hint of warning, let go of her chin and backhanded her violently. The forced caused Aziraphale to bit down on the inside of her cheek and draw blood. Sweet like cherry wine and coppery.

“Lying is a sin, my child,” Gabriel said coldly. Not an inch of care for Aziraphale’s stinging cheek and watery eyes. “And you are a nun. Don’t do it. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes F-F-Father,” Aziraphale choked.

“And lose the gut. I do not want to repeat myself Aziraphale, neither do you,” Gabriel finally sat down. “Michael will be a good example for you to follow. She’s what a real nun should look like. Quite attainable as well, even for you,”

“Y-yes father,”

Gabriel’s cold stare was replaced by a puppet smile. “Good. You understand God is forgiving, but sins such as the ones you nearly participate in Aziraphale, have limits. I’d hate for you to fall into sin Aziraphale. What a waste that would be,” He grinned wider, like a shark. “Now that we’ve established that. I’d recommend you go and pray before dinner, it’s a bad look for a nun to have to confess sins. And I hopefully will see you doing what you need to do, right?”

Aziraphale nodded shakily, her entire person wanting to fall apart right then, even with Father Gabriel watching.

“You are dismissed sunshine,”

Aziraphale hurried out like an injured rabbit, which, in a way she was.

-

Aziraphale knelt at her bedside, hands clasped. She hadn’t been able to ice her cheek, knowing Father Gabriel would take her getting ice from the kitchen the wrong way. And a bruised cheek and tear raw eyes were enough for a while.

So, all she could do was pray.

“Dear Heavenly Father above,” Aziraphale began. “Forgive me for my sins. I have succumbed to temptation, even under your guidance. I will resist harder, for you Lord. Amen,” She finished, tears threatening to crawl up again.

She shoved them down with a choked and water-logged gasp.

_Good nuns take the punishment for their sins stoically_ , Gabriel’s words reminded her. Aziraphale desperately wanted to be good. So, she’d obey Gabriel’s words dutifully. Like the good nun she wanted to be.

-

Dinner wasn’t as bad as Aziraphale expected. There were plenty of pity-filled glances or icy ones in her direction, but if her head was down, she couldn’t see them. It didn’t mean she couldn’t feel them though.

When Father Gabriel caught sight of her, he smiled very knowingly. A test, testing her to get dinner instead of just sitting down. A severe punishment waiting if she failed.

Aziraphale sat down alone, not needing anymore company other than her own shame and guilt.

Father Gabriel smiled approvingly. She’d passed her test it seemed.

Her stomach growled, but Aziraphale didn’t act on it. It would hurt in the present, she knew, but the reward had to be good enough to bear it. Good nun was the goal, and happy Father Gabriel too.

Aziraphale caught sight of Father Gabriel whispering something to Michael, the woman nodded to whatever it was. Aziraphale had a bad feeling about what they were whispering about. She hid her head in her arms to ignore it.

It was going to be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you can, they make my day!


	3. Crowley Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley arrives at the nunnery and meets a certain blond woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this fic! I hope you enjoy this chapter, which was beta'd by my lovely friend @protect-the-jojos on tumblr!

Crowley finally arrived at the nunnery, five days later than she’d planned. If asked by Hell, and she hoped they wouldn’t, she’d say the delay was caused by the semantics of her plan. Little fiddly things that miracles wouldn’t always account for. It wasn’t a complete lie, there was a delay in getting the old gardener out, something about getting his final paycheck or some shit. But that only accounted for three days of the delay. The other two days were caused by Crowley herself. It had taken an incredibly long while to steel herself for keeping this strictly professional. 

  
And maybe a few bottles of tequila. But that didn’t matter. 

  
Crowley checked herself in the rearview mirror, making sure there wasn’t a hair out of place. And sure enough, she was immaculate. Probably too immaculate, for the job she was taking. But it made her feel better. 

  
With a proper demonic saunter, Crowley walked up and knocked. A ginger nun opened the door, a questioning look on her face. 

  
“I heard you were looking for a gardener,” Crowley’s glasses slid down her nose ever so slightly, revealing her amber eyes slightly. 

  
“Yes, we are,” The nun said, pushing the door open wider and moving to the side. “Do come in,” 

  
Crowley steeled herself, and stepped in. 

  
-

  
Getting hired was a cinch for Crowley. Not even a demonic miracle needed. Well, maybe she used one or two, she didn’t exactly dress to look like a gardener that day.

  
Crowley now sat in the garden of the Nunnery, her feet still hurting from walking on the consecrated ground. It wasn’t bad, in Crowley’s opinion. A bit dry there, and too wet there, but not bad. Not nearly as good as her plants, but that could always be remedied. And there was plenty of time to start. Crowley hadn’t caught sight of her temptation yet, and probably wouldn’t until dinner, not that she knew what the woman looked like. 

  
Crowley began to pass the time as her feet healed by threatening the nearby flowers. 

\- 

It was still daylight by the time a nun called out that it was dinner. Crowley had tried to stand up, but she fell back onto her knees the second any weight was placed on her feet. It also soaked the sole of her shoe with fluid, it took a miracle to get it out. 

  
Crowley looked up and saw a storm starting to brew. She groaned. She was going to be soaked and cold by the time her feet stopped hurting enough to walk. 

  
But she didn’t have much time to grieve her fate as two holes in the ground in front of her opened up and two demons came out. 

  
“Crowley,” Hastur said in some semblance of a greeting. 

“Crowley,” Ligur parroted. 

  
“What are you two doing here?” Crowley groaned. 

  
“Making sure you’re doing your job,” Hastur snarled. 

  
“I just got here for Satan’s sake,” Crowley growled. “And when haven’t I done my job?” 

  
“We don’t trust you Crowley,” Hastur glared. “You act, all soft when it comes to humans. It’s like you care for them,” 

  
“When did demons start trusting each other?” Crowley snarked. “And I am not soft. I am a demon. Demons are not soft. I just have more class when it comes to corrupting humans than you pricks do.” She attempted to stand up and assert herself, but quickly fell back down. 

  
Hastur shrugged. “Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself. Just do this job and do it right or we’ll have much more than words waiting for you once you’re back home,” 

  
“Yeah, Dagon’s getting things set up already so don’t think for a moment we’re playing games Crow-“ 

  
A clap of thunder interrupted Ligur. And the Heavens opened, and rain came pouring down, like it was Noah all over again. 

  
“She’s got the point, let’s get out of here,” Hastur stated before sinking back into the ground. Ligur followed suit, a smirk on his face and a tiny wave of the hand before he was gone. 

  
“Bastards,” Crowley grumbled. 

  
In a strange way, the cold water felt good. She took off her black button up shirt and her shoes and socks. Figuring if she had to be soaked than she might as well be comfortable. The water dulled the ache in her feet, but she didn’t dare stand up. Lest she lit the pain up again. 

  
Another clap of thunder came and a streak of lightning flashed across the sky. She lent back, letting the leaves of the nearby tree shelter her head somewhat. It reminded her of Eden, the first rain. Hiding in the trees, afraid that the water might burn her, being God sent. 

  
It didn’t, but she still feared that it would, back then. 

  
Crowley watched the lightning dance across the sky, wondering if occult beings could be struck by it, and if they would be discorporated by it, when a voice called out, “Miss! Miss?” 

  
Crowley sat up in confusion. “What the Hell?” She whispered. 

  
“Miss!” The feminine voice called out again. “Miss! Where are you?”

  
Crowley pushed herself onto her knees, trying to see who the Hell was talking, and who they where looking for possibly. 

  
Suddenly a short blonde came into view, a white umbrella in her hands. Looking around, worry creasing her face more and more as the seconds passed. Crowley tried to shuffle to get a better look and ended up falling onto her chest with a grunt. 

  
The blonde turned and worry and relief passed her face at the same time. “There you are!” She exclaimed, rushing over and helping Crowley back onto her knees. “You must be the gardener, it’s very nice to meet you Miss…” 

  
“Crowley, just Crowley,” Crowley smiled dumbly, gazing into the pretty blonde’s sea colored eyes. 

  
“As I said, very nice to meet you Crowley. What are you doing out here in such weather? At the very least you could get a cold!” The nun fussed. 

  
“Um, hurt my feet earlier, got stuck in here,” Crowley admitted. “I’m fine though, I could probably walk right now,” She tried to stand up and gasped in pain before sitting back down. 

  
“What has happened to your feet poor girl?” The woman knelt to inspect Crowley’s feet. 

  
“Don’t!” Crowley exclaimed, unprepared to explain her feet. “Sorry, just don’t. Just help me inside please,” 

  
The woman looked at her oddly. “Why don’t you want me to-“ 

  
“I’m not in a position to explain, okay?” Crowley hissed as the pain flared again. “I just need help getting to bed, please,” She sounded almost pathetic, a demon asking for help. 

  
The blonde nodded. “Alright, but you’ll have to tell me what you need for your feet once your inside. Then if you’re comfortable you can explain. Okay?” 

  
Crowley nodded quickly, causing her clenched jaw to grind her teeth. “Alright, alright,” 

  
“Good,” The ocean-eyed woman helped Crowley up, supporting most of the demon’s weight while trying to keep her feet off the ground. “Please hold this over your head dear,” The woman handed her the umbrella. 

  
“Don’t, I’ll be fine, keep yourself dry,” Crowley grit. “Rain feels good,” 

  
The woman simply frowned and took Crowley’s hand gently, wrapping the demon’s fingers around the handle. “Keep dry dear,” 

  
Crowley’s eyes widened at the gesture, and her heart beat just a tiny bit faster. 

  
The woman didn’t seem to take notice of Crowley’s dumbfounded expression, and kept helping the ginger to the door, slowly. 

  
When they made it into the Nunnery, Crowley’s feet lit up in agonizing pain again, causing her to cry out rather undemonic-like. 

  
“Oh, you poor thing,” The woman worried her lip, trying to get more of the soaking demon off the ground. “I’m sorry for causing you more pain,” She apologized. 

  
“It’s not your fault, just an accident,” Crowley smiled, sniffing back tears. “My room’s down at the end of the hall, left hall,” 

  
The woman nodded and tried her best to keep Crowley’s feet from touching the ground. Which worked better sometimes than others. 

  
There was a sigh of relief from both when Crowley was finally deposited on her bed. The redhead wanted desperately to miracle herself dry the very second her back hit the duvet, but knew it’d be suspicious in front of the woman. 

  
“Is there anything you need dear?” The woman asked. 

  
“A shot to the head,” Crowley laughed, but quickly stopped when she saw the blonde’s reaction. “Just joking, just joking. Some bandages and water would be amazing, really,” 

  
“Right away dear,” The woman said before scurrying off to grab the supplies. 

  
\- 

  
It wasn’t long before the woman returned with the bandages and a bucket of water.

  
“I hope this will be enough for you, you can always call me back if you need more,” The woman smiled. 

  
“Nah, it’ll be fine. Thanks,” Crowley stretched like a cat before sitting up on the side of the bed. “Really, thanks for the help,” 

  
“Not a problem,” The woman said, looking away, with pink dusting her cheeks. 

  
Crowley took a moment to process before it clicked. She was shirtless. And had but a thin lace bra, which happened to be water soaked. 

  
“Well, I should get going,” The nun said, still looking down. 

  
“Right, of course,” Crowley smiled a bit. “Again, thanks for the help. Have a nice night,” 

  
“Yes, you as well dear,” The woman smiled and made her way to the door. 

  
“Wait, what’s your name, before you go,” Crowley asked in a rushed voice. 

  
“Aziraphale dear,” She said, then left. 

  
Crowley sat stunned, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind. The loudest one being that this was the nun she was meant to be messing up. Defiling. De-sainting. That woman, the one who shielded her from rain. That one. 

  
Crowley suddenly felt very unsure she’d be able to go through with this temptation. 

  
She chose to distract herself by cleaning her wounds. 


	4. The Beginning of A Bad Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has some bad feelings about this, and some good ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haiii~ Thanks for coming back! Hope you enjoy!

It was six in the morning when someone knocked on Crowley’s door, dragging the demon out of a long frenzied and flaming train of thought she had been riding ever since Aziraphale had left her room. Crowley groaned when she heard it, she was just starting to get comfortable in her state of mind. 

“Miss?” A muffled voice asked, Crowley knew who it was though.

Crowley pulled the covers over her head, as if it would hide her from the cruel outside world.

“Miss?” Aziraphale asked again. “Are you awake?”

Crowley groaned again and curled further into the covers. There was a chance, if she stayed perfectly still, she would disappear and never be found. 

Another knock, firmer this time. “Miss?”

Crowley finally sat up, her initial plan of staying perfectly still wasn’t working as well as she imagined. The real world was quite literally knocking at her door and wasn’t likely to leave her alone.

She miracled herself dressed, this time in something closer to her regular ensemble. Acceptable by churchly standards, probably. Crowley didn’t care enough to change it. 

Crowley stood up, and her feet screamed in rebellion to the abuse. She didn’t let it overcome her though, as much as she wanted it to. She jogged to the door, trying to keep her feet on the ground for as little time as demonically possible. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley smiled as she pushed the door open. Still jogging. “How you doing? Quite early don’t you think, to be walking around, eh?”

Aziraphale stared for a moment at Crowley then raised an eyebrow. “You’re jogging?”

Crowley smiled crumpled at the sides. “It’s good for when you have a foot injury, you know? Gets the blood pumping,” She didn’t know if any of what she said was correct.

Aziraphale looked skeptical. “Depends on the wound,” Was all she said on the topic. “Anyway Miss-“

“Just Crowley,” The demon interjected. 

Aziraphale nodded. “ _Crowley_ , I was just coming by to make sure you were awake for breakfast, and to make sure you were okay and could find it. Though I don’t mean to say you couldn’t find it and you weren’t fine on your own I just was making sure-“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Crowley interrupted the blonde’s nervous rambling. “I could use some directions, not too good at finding my way around,” That wasn’t completely true. 

Aziraphale smiled, obviously comforted by Crowley’s small lie. “Follow me then Mi-Crowley, I mean,” She said, holding out her hand. 

Crowley just stared, confused. 

“I don’t want you putting too much pressure on your feet, dear,” Aziraphale explained. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want-“

Crowley, without a hint of hesitation, wrapped her arm around Aziraphale’s. The demon nearly discorperated when Aziraphale laced her fingers in between the demon’s. The feel of the blonde’s hand was the nail in the coffin for Crowley’s case for Aziraphale being an angel. 

“Let’s go, angel,” The pet name slipped off her serpentine tongue before Crowley could try to reel it back.

Aziraphale blushed and looked away, a smile fighting its way onto her face. “L-let’s go,”

Crowley didn’t plan on stopping use of the name at that point. 

-

Crowley didn’t get anything to eat, she didn’t need it nor wanted it. She expected Aziraphale to fuss over the decision, but when the demon looked over the blonde’s face was anything but fussy. In fact, it was sad and longing. 

“Aren’t you get anything?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, no, dear,” Aziraphale forced herself to smile. “I’m not hungry, but you should get something, don’t wait for me,”

Crowley frowned; demons could sense lying-among other things-as angels could feel love. And Aziraphale smelled like a wealthy gay man in 1862 trying to explain why he didn’t have a wife at twenty-five years of age and lived with his best male friend. If only she knew _why_ the nun was lying. 

“You sure? It’d be a shame to let any of the food go to waste,” Crowley offered temptingly, though even Crowley herself wasn’t sure why she was doing it. “Don’t you think?”

Aziraphale looked away. “I’m quite fine dear, I assure you,” 

“How unfortunate, I’m sure whoever cooked it would be quite disappointed if they thought you didn’t like it,” Crowley tried a different angle, which was a tad low, but she was a demon, what would it matter to her?

Aziraphale squirmed, then looked around as if a predator would jump out at her. Crowley had a bad feeling about that. “Oh, well, what could a nibble hurt?” 

Crowley smiled in victory. 

-

Aziraphale smiled and wiggled as she wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, she’d eaten far more than a bite. 

Crowley was gripping the table for dear life the whole time; eating wasn’t a habit of her’s, but she could into the habit of watching Aziraphale eat. The contented sighs, little wiggles, the blessed moans. The demon was torn between taking the nun right there on the table and taking her out to dinner.

Without warning, Aziraphale’s face fell into a look of guilt and fear, and Crowley noticed she was staring at something, or someone. But before she could follow the angel’s line of sight said angel stood up and took Crowley’s hand. 

“Why don’t you show me what you’ve done with the garden so far dear?” Aziraphale asked with a pleading look in her eyes.

Crowley couldn’t say no. 

-

“The marigolds look amazing dear,” Aziraphale praised as she inspected the flowers. “I’ve never seen them like this,”

“Yeah, can’t go soft on them, wilt in a second if you do,” Crowley puffed her chest out proudly. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale sighed. 

“But, it never hurts to be a little soft on them, add some spice,” Crowley added. 

Aziraphale smiled slightly. “Of course,” 

Crowley shifted a little closer to Aziraphale. “Yeah,” 

Aziraphale shifted closer to Crowley as well. “Forgive me for the unsightly exit earlier dear, I was just excited to see your work to the garden. The last gardener was getting into her later years, had a bit of trouble keeping it up, poor thing, but you’ve done such a great job,” She beamed. 

Crowley smelled lying faintly but decided not to push. 

“It’s fine, thanks for thinking so highly of one plant,” Crowley teased. 

Aziraphale nudged Crowley’s elbow playfully. 

“You’re a terrible comedian,” Aziraphale teased back. 

“Excuse me, you’ve only heard two of my jokes. You don’t know the beginning of my comedic skill,” Crowley began laughing. 

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale giggled. “If you’re such a good comedian, what are you doing as a gardener?”

“Wanted to, it’s like asking you why you became a nun when you’re clearly cut out for being a model,” Crowley weakly tried to make it sound teasing. 

Aziraphale frowned deeply, all the joy wrung from her face like a wet rag. 

“Hey, sorry, I must’ve struck a nerve, sorry,” Crowley apologized. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Aziraphale said. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know,”

“Should I know?” Crowley asked.

“Well, it depends if you want to know,” Aziraphale responded. 

“Sure, why not?” Crowley smiled. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak when another voice cut across. 

“Aziraphale!”

The blonde nearly jumped at the sound, fear spreading across her face like blood in water. 

“Aziraphale! I need you for a minute!” The contralto voice called again.

Aziraphale herself was shaking like a leaf. “I need to go dear. But I’ll be back to admire your one plant as soon as possible,”

“Why?” Crowley quizzed. 

“Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley weakly before scurrying off. Not a word of passage, just gone. 

-

Crowley didn’t see Aziraphale at lunch. Or at dinner. Or just before she went to bed. Crowley had a bad feeling about all of it. 


	5. Punishment For No Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has suspicions, and Aziraphale has punishments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One, major physical abuse warning right here, skip ahead in the chapter if you no like.
> 
> Two, I couldn't decide on a title between Punishment For No Sin and Suspicions That Will Not Be Confirmed Or Denied so you get the first. 
> 
> Thanks for coming back and reading lovelies!

Aziraphale used to wonder, years ago, what the prisoners of The Bastille felt when they would be led to execution, what they felt staring at the object which would bring their end.

Aziraphale stopped wondering many years ago.

-

“I have been very forgiving Aziraphale,” Father Gabriel stood above Aziraphale where she kneeled. “Very, very forgiving. I’ve tried to help you along when you’ve failed, I’ve given you the directions you needed. And I started to believe in you Aziraphale, started to believe you could change. And what do I hear from Michael?” He asked coldly. “Tell me what I hear from Michael?”

Aziraphale swallowed the bile which was rising in her throat. “F-Father, please, I-I can explain-“

A harsh hand struck her face.

“Answer me Aziraphale,” Gabriel ordered.

“I-I ate breakfast, but-but sir I promise t-t-that was all I was going to have, I swear,” Aziraphale pleaded.

Gabriel looked to Michael, who had been standing there the whole time with a poker face. “What do you think Michael, is she telling the truth?”

“Well, sir, look at her. I think that says enough itself,” Michael didn’t show any emotion, but the smirk in her voice was loud and clear.

Gabriel pretended to ponder it, before sticking his hand out for Michael to place a black leather belt in it. Aziraphale knew it like an old friend.

“You know what to do,” Gabriel said.

Aziraphale removed her veil and bared her shaking hands palm open to Gabriel.

Gabriel waited, letting Aziraphale quiver in anticipation and fear, then brought the belt down on her wrists.

-

Aziraphale exited the suffocating space of the basement only He knew how many hours later. Tears dripped off her red and purple and swollen face like a leaky tap, catching in the dip of her throat. Soaking her clothing.

Her hands were swollen and bruised as well, but none of them hurt as much as her heart. In Aziraphale’s mind, she’d earned this, as she had earned it before. It was just as Father Gabriel preached, sinners will earn damnation and saints will earn His good will and a second life with Him.

Aziraphale knew better than to try and soothe herself, she didn’t need more reminding. And it was her punishment to bare stoically, like a good nun. It didn’t mean she would bare her failures in view of other people, especially not Crowley, though she didn’t quite know why she was thinking of the sunglass wearing woman’s opinion of her, when the nun already probably knew what the redhead thought of her.

Aziraphale’s eyes pricked with tears again, so she buried herself under the covers, attempting to sleep.

She wouldn’t for many an hour.

-

Crowley had barely slept the night Aziraphale had rushed away from her in the garden. Her mind kept suggesting increasingly awful ideas about what happened to the angel, and the demon hadn’t been able to stop it.

The second Crowley’s watch read six AM the demon sprung out of bed and willed herself dressed. Her initial plan was to wait and see if Aziraphale would come around again to make sure Crowley didn’t hurt her feet, which was exactly was Crowley was doing right now, but the demon couldn’t wait it out.

Crowley felt a peculiar weight in her chest when she didn’t see the blonde standing outside her door. The redhead chalked it up to not being able to continue her temptation right away.

She went to the dining hall, hoping to see Aziraphale enjoying some food, but was in no such luck.

It was the same disappointing and frankly worrying story as time went on and Crowley went out into the garden.

The marigolds were in for it that day.

-

When evening came Crowley was wound up tightly. She’d call it frustration if asked, but in reality, she was extremely worried. Aziraphale had done more than scare her when she ran off to American sounding voice with that look in her eyes. Frightened prey is what the blonde looked like.

The demon didn’t like any of it, not a bit. And it wasn’t because she cared, she was a demon for Satan’s sake, it was because it would put a barrier in her temptation if the Church was a little less than homey to the blonde.

Crowley had begun to pace the perimeter of the garden. Apprehension clung to her bones like ducklings and ducks.

“Fuck it,” Crowley cursed to herself, finishing her fifteenth round around the garden. She ran inside and began searching for a nun to tell her where Aziraphale was.

-

Crowley had found the nun who’d hired her as the gardener, a single lock of her ginger hair sticking out from under her habit.

“Hey there, it’s good to see you again,” Crowley smiled, trying not to hop around like an idiot from the consecrated ground. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Sister Aziraphale is? I’ve been looking around for her all day, haven’t been able to find her,”

The ginger nun stared oddly at Crowley for a moment. “May I ask why?”

“Ah, just hang around each other, she’s been showing me around and what not,” Crowley grit her teeth and wished for the conversation to go faster.

“I see,” The nun didn’t look too convinced, but she didn’t press more. “She’s been doing studies in her room all day, very busy. I wouldn’t recommend you bother her,”

Crowley could’ve smelled the lie from a mile away. “Ah, well, thanks. I’ll just say hi to her real quick then get out of her hair,”

The nun seemed quite displeased by this, but again, didn’t press more. “Make it quick. Her room is down the right hall, directly across from yours,”

“Thanks,” Crowley smiled as nicely as she could and tried not to run to Aziraphale’s room.

Crowley, even with the burning at her feet, slowed as she approached Aziraphale’s door. But, with a small scrap of courage she found somewhere in the basement or attic of her mind, she knocked on the door.

“Aziraphale?”


	6. To Relax An Angel, Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley knows somethings up, but she needs Aziraphale to tell her herself. So how does one relax an angel to get answers? A demon may know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back! I want to warn there's a reference to purging at the end, so keep that in mind. Hope you enjoy!

_Crowley, even with the burning at her feet, slowed as she approached Aziraphale’s door. But, with a small scrap of courage she found somewhere in the basement or attic of her mind, she knocked on the door._

_“Aziraphale?”_

No answer.

Crowley considered walking away and waiting to see Aziraphale in the morning, but a nagging feeling kept at her, filling her stomach with unease. She knocked again.

Again, no answer.

Another knock, more silence. Repeat cycle for a minute or two.

Now, Crowley liked to think see was a decent person, or demon, if a demon being decent was possible. She wasn’t one to just pin someone down and take, like some of her co-workers. She also wouldn’t just break into someone’s room for little to no reason, like some of her co-workers. Decent.

But she cared about the blonde’s wellbeing, from a professional stance, of course.

“She’s just asleep Crowley,” Crowley tried to reason with herself, and it wasn’t a bad reason either. It was ten in the evening. But, Crowley’s brain, and much less heart (Which she didn’t have, by the way, demon and all, of course.) were not reasonable.

So, she willed a chair into existence, already knowing her feet were going to be charred when she took her shoes off and sat down, her feet well above the ground.

Crowley didn’t sleep, which was because the wicked did not rest.

-

Morning had not come before Aziraphale woke.

She stripped out of her habit and replaced it with her white bedclothes. Aziraphale took a candle from her nightstand and with a nearby match she lit it. It didn’t produce much light, only enough to light a small space in front of her softly. But it would do.

She cracked the door open, dimming the light of the candle as to not alert anyone who might be there. Even if it was silly to think anyone would be awake before six.

It happened to be not so silly after all.

Crowley had in fact, fallen asleep. Her fault in all honestly, she hadn’t slept the night before. And she was the one demon who needed sleep.

Aziraphale nearly dropped the candle when she saw the snoozing demon.

She didn’t let herself dwell on it too much. Though, it was incredibly odd.

Aziraphale made it past Crowley without waking her, and to the kitchen without another problem. She collected a bag of ice, the simple coolness of it soothing her bruised hands. She knew somewhere in herself that she really shouldn’t be doing this, but her hands often hurt far too much to move. No one could object to her soothing her bruises if it was allowing her to be a better nun.

The trip back would be another bucket of fish altogether.

Aziraphale was so close to her room, just a few more steps and she would’ve been safely inside to mend her hands and cheeks.

Then, the condensation from the ice bag and Aziraphale’s loose grip caused the bag to drop loudly, or loudly in the almost completely silent environment.

Aziraphale’s heart raced and her lungs refused to work. She turned around, hoping to the Father above that Crowley hadn’t been waken, or anyone else for that matter. Either God wasn’t listening, or luck was not on her side.

The redhead shot up at the sound, hair all askew and glasses perched precariously on her nose, and in the dark Aziraphale could’ve sworn she saw bright amber slit eyes staring back at her.

“Zir’phale?” Crowley asked as she rubbed her eyes. “That you?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer, instead scooping up the ice and rushing the last few steps into her room. She unintentionally slammed the door, the adrenaline coursing through her.

Crowley looked on in confusion but didn’t go after Aziraphale. The woman was already rattled enough Crowley reasoned. She snapped herself back into her bed, deciding that morning would be a better time to start on things again.

-

Morning did come by the time Crowley woke.

The demon, even at the expense of her now incredibly burned feet, which were constantly protesting Crowley’s abuse, went to Aziraphale’s room.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley knocked. “You up? I’m going to go to breakfast, I wouldn’t mind you joining me today,”

There was a response this time. “Ah, you go ahead dear. I’m not particularly peckish this morning. But I might be able to join you in the garden later,”

“Busy doing your studies, huh?” Crowley tested.

“Um, yes, of course,” Aziraphale lied, Crowley knew.

“Oh, well. Make sure you eat something, and I hope to see you in the garden,”

“Of course, dear, mind your feet,”

Crowley went straight to the garden, to begin a plan of how to relax the angel, in hopes of some answers, for tempting purposes only.

-

Aziraphale panicked inside her room.

Crowley hadn’t brought up the previous night, which suggested the demon didn’t remember. Or she was going to tell Gabriel or Michael who would tell Gabriel. Or she didn’t plan to bring it up at all to anyone and let it die in the past. Too many options, too many possibilities.

She lay wrapped in her blankets for some time, slowly forcing herself to think logically.

Once she got up and dressed herself, still shaking lightly with anxiety, she pulled up her mattress to reveal a makeup brush, white gloves, and a bottle of concealer. She gathered them all up and set them on her bed.

Nuns didn’t usually have any sort of beauty items; it went against their vows in a way.

But the old gardener had given the makeup to her, after catching Aziraphale’s pink bruises one day. It would’ve been hardly fair to refuse her gifts, and they had helped her so much, it’d be a waste to get rid of them.

So Aziraphale, with practiced ease, covered the bruises on her face, not leaving a trace to be found. She then hid the items under her mattress once more. The gloves slid on fine, the swelling in her hands had already passed.

“Ready,” She whispered to herself. She was ready, at least physically. No one besides Michael and Gabriel had to know her failures.

She went to find Crowley in the garden.

-

Crowley was there, sure enough.

“Hey angel!” Crowley smiled, even though she knew Aziraphale was wearing makeup on her cheeks. The color was off.

“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale smiled and sat down next to Crowley. “How is your one plant doing?”

Crowley bent over and plucked a bright golden and crimson marigold. “Perfect, not a leaf spot or wilting flower in sight,” She leaned over and tucked the flower in Aziraphale’s ear, the tips of her fingers brushing across Aziraphale’s skin.

“Lovely dear,” Aziraphale blushed and looked away.

“But, you know, I do have more than one plant nowadays,” Crowley teased.

“Would you care to show me them then?” Aziraphale giggled.

“I’d love to, but I’ve got to grab a few things, can only find ‘em in Soho,” Crowley said. “But, you’re welcome to join me,”

“Oh, but, I really shouldn’t,” Aziraphale bit her lip, and squeezed her gloved hands together.

“Come on! Just going to be out for an hour or two, could use some help if you’re up for it,” Crowley smiled. “Of course, you don’t have to, but it’d be nice to have some company,”

Aziraphale looked back up to Crowley and smiled. “Well, I could spare a couple of hours I suppose,” She’d accepted Crowley’s temptation.

“C’mon then,” Crowley smiled, standing up and taking her gloves off. “I’ll drive,”

-

Crowley, for the first time since cars had been invented, went the speed limit.

“Soho’s a lot busier than I expected,” Aziraphale laughed nervously.

“Eh, don’t fret too much over it. Bunch of people, place to be, places to go. None of them wanting to get into each other’s business, unless you count a few, who want everyone’s business. Otherwise it’s just a lot of people packed together,” Crowley tried to sound assuring, Soho wasn’t as calm as she was painting it.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Aziraphale smiled, less nervous.

“You mind if we pop over to mind for a bit, I’ve got a flat here and I may or may not have ditched my plants for the past few days. You could stay in the car if you like, or you could go in, your choice,”

“That’d be just fine dear, your plants need care,” Aziraphale said. “And I’d be fine to go in with you,”

“Thanks,” Crowley smiled almost adoringly, and the Bentley had the audacity to start playing ‘I Want to Break Free’ at some very specific parts.

-

Aziraphale sat in Crowley’s living room, holding a cooling cup of tea. She wanted to feel comfortable in the gardener’s home, but it was too bare, gray and dark. It didn’t look like a flat somebody intended to live in.

“You know what you’ve done, you’ve disappointed me,” Crowley’s voice was loud in the quite flat, and almost made Aziraphale jump. “A leaf spot, really? I’m gone for just over a week and this is what I come back to? I will not stand for this!”

A pause.

“Everyone, say goodbye to your friends, they just couldn’t cut it!” Crowley said bitterly before the sound of grinding was heard. Then, “And to the rest of you, grow bettah!” Aziraphale did jump when Crowley yelled.

But, Aziraphale quickly put herself back together when Crowley walked in. “Thanks for letting me take care of that, can I buy you lunch?”

“Of course!” Aziraphale forced a smile. She couldn’t turn down Crowley’s hospitality.

“I’ve got a great place in mind,” Crowley smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for coming back for another chapter!
> 
> Sorry this one was so short, I needed to get something out but I couldn't get much on paper. Sorry if it sucks.

Crowley pulled up in the front of the Italian place she had probably gone to for wine to many times not to be considered an alcoholic.

“I probably should’ve asked,” Crowley laughed awkwardly as she opened the car door for Aziraphale. “But I hope you like Italian,”

Aziraphale smiled with assurance. “It’s fine, dear,”

“Thanks,” Crowley led Aziraphale into the restaurant.

-

Crowley, once again, didn’t eat anything. Well, except for the bite of pasta Aziraphale asked her to eat. It was nice, but not nearly as nice as the wine. Which Aziraphale told her not to have because she was driving, as if the Bentley couldn’t handle it.

But that wasn’t the point.

The demon had expected to see Aziraphale enjoying the food, or at least somewhat enjoying it, since said demon had a bad feeling the nun hadn’t eaten since the first meal she saw Aziraphale ate. Instead, the blonde looked timid, almost scared by the presence of food. She did eat, but it was conservative, like someone rationing. Crowley didn’t like it, yet, she didn’t comment.

After Aziraphale had finished her pasta (Just pasta. Nothing else. Crowley had eaten more in a century.) she politely excused herself. Crowley took the time she was gone to pay the bill, not wanting Aziraphale to fuss over it.

Aziraphale returned not too long later.

“Ready to go dear?” Aziraphale asked, an odd look on her.

“Yeah,” Crowley stood up. “You good angel?”

“Of course, tickety-boo,” Aziraphale smiled.

Crowley cringed, only partially caused by the terrible phrase Aziraphale used. She knew Aziraphale wasn’t ‘tickety-boo.’

-

As much as Crowley didn’t want to go back to the nunnery, not only because she had been imagining the whole day that her feet were fine and not literally charred like a damn steak. She had a bad feeling about the place, and it wasn’t getting better.

But, Aziraphale had gotten worried over how long they had been out (It was only an hour) and had so nicely asked Crowley if they could cut the trip short. And who was the demon to say no?

“Sorry for this inconvenience, you couldn’t even get the things you needed,” Aziraphale pouted.

“Eh, no problem angel,” Crowley smiled, ignoring the fact there had been nothing she actually had to get.

Aziraphale’s pout quirked into a smile, and Crowley heard the radio turn on.

The demon gripped the wheel hard, preparing herself for the Bentley’s endless torment through Queen songs.

“Crawley,” The static-y voice of Freddie Mercury came instead. “Crawley,”

Crowley, if she were in a better state of mind, a less panicky one, would have cursed herself for ever convincing Hell to start using technology to communicate with her. But she wasn’t, so she didn’t do this until later.

Aziraphale looked to the redhead, confused and slightly frightened. Crowley awkwardly smiled in return.

“Crawly,” The radio droned. “Crawley, we know you’re listening. Why haven’t you sent any reports? Why are you taking so long with the temptation? Answer us Crawly or we’ll just come up there ourselves-“

Crowley flicked the radio off with shaking hands.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked.

“Just-just, um, probably someone on the wrong frequency, you know?” Crowley prayed to someone Aziraphale didn’t know. “Happens all the time. Anyway, why don’t we talk about something else now?”

Aziraphale just nodded, looking a bit frightened by Crowley’s display.

“What’s your favorite book?” Crowley tried.

Aziraphale relaxed slightly and began talking about something by Wilde. Crowley didn’t know the guy well, but she did have a few wine nights with him.

-

Aziraphale went into the nunnery, leaving Crowley in the car, with a promise to show her around the garden.

Crowley turned the radio back on, hoping Hell would call back instead of breaking down her door-

“Crowley,”

Crowley turned very slowly to the passenger’s seat; her face held in a grimace. “Hey, Hastur,” She groaned, at least they weren’t breaking down the door this time.

“You’ve been slacking,” The blonde demon stated simply.

“I know I haven’t done my reports Hastur, I’m busy,” Crowley hissed.

“You’re also taking an awful lot of time,” Hastur said. “It’s been a week Crowley, what’s taking so long?”

“You can’t just snap your fingers and fuck someone and call it a day,” Crowley groaned. “Well, I guess you _can_ , but it’s not very effective. You should know this, Duke of Hell, you gotta make ‘em want it, or else it’s a one time sin and they just confess and move on,” She explained.

Hastur looked at her skeptically. “You tempted two people to eat a forbidden apple in two minute Crowley,”

“Different rules back then. People are different these days, not that you would know,” Crowley grumbled.

“Get it done Crowley,” Hastur stated coldly. “Or else,” He reached over, and slid off Crowley’s glasses, snapping them with his fingers.

“Those were my favorite pair," Crowley lied, she had thirty pairs because she broke them so often.

Hastur just laughed. “Get it done,’ He said again, before disappearing.

Crowley frowned. “Arse,”

She finally got out, and imagined her feet weren’t in seething pain, and walked very calmly to the garden.


	8. Crowley Meets Gabriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meets Gabriel after the abuse her feet have suffered catches up to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for coming back, even after the really short chapter! I've got a better one for you today!!

Aziraphale was waiting by the marigolds when Crowley arrived. She had taken out the marigold Crowley had tucked in her ear, and was closely examining it, taking care not to bruise a petal. Crowley could’ve sworn she saw a blush lightly dusting the blonde’s cheek as she got closer.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale looked up and schooled her features back into place. “You’re here,” She tucked the flower back into its place.

“Of course, wasn’t going to keep you waiting forever,” Crowley smiled.

“Ah, right,” Aziraphale smiled. “Well, anyway, would you still like to show your other plants. Or is it still just the one?”

Crowley laughed. “Whatever, follow me,”

Aziraphale did, but a question lingered on her tongue. _What happened in the car?_

-

Crowley, for the most part, enjoyed the pervious gardener’s floral choices. Nothing was too extravagant, but it all meshed nicely together. No heinous displays of lilium’s and pansies like the one garden in the eighties.

But Crowley absolutely did not agree with the devil and angel orchids that had been planted, side by side. The symbolism hit a bit close to home at the moment. Crowley was considering pulling them out and panting them on separate sides of St. James.

“They’re lovely, dear,” Aziraphale bent down to look at them closer. “I remember helping the last gardener plant these, you’ve done such a wonderful job of taking care of them,”

Maybe Crowley wasn’t going to do that after all.

“No problem angel,” Crowley smiled.

Aziraphale plucked one of the devil orchids and walked very far into Crowley’s personal space, then tucked the flower in her ear.

“There, now you have a flower too,” Aziraphale beamed.

Crowley had a very good imagination, by demon and human standards. If she believed something enough, it would be. But a demon could only imagine so much at once. Believing that her feet were fine and imaging what was up with Aziraphale took most of it. Not leaving any room for fantasies about a certain nun barely two inches away from her.

Aziraphale’s hand hadn’t left Crowley, the tips of her fingers still on the demon’s skin.

Crowley wanted very much to close the gap, to get as close as possible to the nun, finally figure out if she was right about Aziraphale wearing chapstick-

Crowley’s feet ignited in pain, she fell partially onto her knee’s and onto Aziraphale before she could bring her imagination back to where it needed to be.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale yelped.

Crowley only smiled, her desperate attempts to imagine the pain away weren’t working. She should’ve supposed that imaging that she wasn’t in pain would only make it worse later down the line, but it was far too late for that kind of thinking now.

“A-angel, I need y-you to get me to bed,” Crowley wheezed.

“Crowley? What’s going on?” Aziraphale asked, helping Crowley up.

“L-later, bed, now, please,” Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s shoulder for dear life.

“No. What’s going on Crowley?” Aziraphale helped Crowley through the garden.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley groaned.

“Answer me Crowley,”

They took the first step into the nunnery and Crowley’s feet drug across the ground.

“Alright alright!” Crowley fought not to scream. “My-my feet, burnt, don’t ask how,”

Aziraphale frowned and raised her eyebrows, a mix of shock and worry on her face.

“We’re getting you to a hospital then,” Aziraphale stated, pulling more of Crowley onto her and slowly shuffling away from Crowley’s room.

“Don’t, please,” Crowley begged. The last thing she wanted was to leave Aziraphale alone in here. “Just my room, I can take care of it,”

“Crowley, you need a hospital! You just collapsed into my arms!” Aziraphale looked at Crowley like she had just grown another set of eyes.

“Please, I can, you can do what you want, just no hospital,” Crowley begged, gripping Aziraphale’s should to the point it most likely hurt. “Please,”

Aziraphale pouted for a moment, then sighed and began dragging Crowley to her room.

“We’re still going to get someone for you,” Aziraphale didn’t leave room for opposition.

“Fine, good,” Crowley bit into her hand to avoid a scream as she slipped from Aziraphale’s arms onto her feet.

They somehow made it to Crowley’s bedroom without the demon screaming bloody murder.

“I’m going to get Father Gabriel,” Aziraphale said as she placed Crowley on the bed. “You stay here, he’ll get someone to help you,”

Crowley didn’t have it in her to say anything.

“Stay,” Aziraphale said again before rushing out.

Crowley’s vision blinked in and out before she fell unconscious.

-

Crowley came to slowly, like one of those annoying computer updates’ she had invented, which had a chance of not working at all, so you had to uninstall it.

“She’s waking up, Aziraphale, go make tea,” An American sounding voice ordered.

A pressure and warmth on her hand that Crowley hadn’t realized was there before left. And Crowley pried her eyes open to see where it went.

“Ah, hello there,” Crowley turned her head to the direction of the American sounding voice. Even with sleep clogged eyes she knew the face she was seeing was very punchable. “You’ve been asleep for a good bit,”

“Who the Hell are you?” Crowley asked, her voice hoarse with sleep.

The American man frowned at the language but didn’t comment on it. “I’m Father Gabriel. You’re the gardener. It seems you’ve really done a number to your feet,”

Crowley didn’t know what it was yet, but she didn’t like Father Gabriel. He seemed off, and not in the good way like some people.

“Where’s Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, even though she heard the order given to Aziraphale.

“She’s just getting tea,” Father Gabriel smiled.

“Mm,” Crowley sat up, and saw her feet were wrapped in bandages and slightly bloodied gauze. Her feet didn’t hurt as bad anymore though. “So, you didn’t drag me off to a hospital while I was asleep?”

“Oh, no. There wasn’t a need, your feet were far better than they looked. Didn’t even need a doctor,” Father Gabriel explained.

Crowley knew he was lying, but she wasn’t about to complain about staying close to Aziraphale.

“Ah, thanks,” Crowley swung her legs over the side of the bed, right where her shoes miraculously sat. ‘Well, should be fine now, I’m going to go help Aziraphale with tea,” She began to stand when a hand gripped her shoulder and pulled her back.

“Now now, I wouldn’t recommend doing that so soon. Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself more,” Father Gabriel talked down to her, like a child. Crowley could’ve slapped him for that.

“Yeah, sure,” Crowley sat back down.

“Now, why don’t we talk for a bit to pass the time?” Father Gabriel smiled. “We’ve never formally met I don’t think,”

“We haven’t,”

“Well, now’s the perfect time,” Father Gabriel’s voice was becoming incredibly annoying. “As I’ve said, I’m Father Gabriel. But I don’t believe I know your name,”

“Um,” Crowley didn't even consider giving Father Gabriel the name she'd given Aziraphale. “Antonia,”

“Antonia, what a lovely name,” Father Gabriel smiled a bit wider, like he actually thought the name was lovely. But the smile felt forced, like someone was making him do it.

“Family name,” Crowley said.

“That’s just lovely,” Father Gabriel kept smiling, and Crowley wondered if it hurt for him to keep up the act for so long.

Crowley made small talk with Father Gabriel, which was a punishment not even the worst of sinners should endure. There was only so much nods to good little Christian things she could nod and say yes to before she wanted to make this man extremely uncomfortable.

Aziraphale arrived in time to save her.

“Thanks angel,” Crowley smiled as she took a cup.

Father Gabriel didn’t say anything, and Aziraphale cast her gaze down.

Crowley had a bad feeling about this.


	9. Another Slightly Not Okay Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day. Slightly not okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!

Aziraphale stepped out of Crowley’s room with Father Gabriel. She hadn’t exactly wanted to leave her alone, but Crowley was making an obvious effort to get Father Gabriel out. And it wasn’t that she hadn’t tried to stay, but Gabriel shot her down with one look, he didn’t want to stay either. 

  
Aziraphale looked up to Father Gabriel and looked back down when she saw is blank but stony face. 

  
“Aziraphale,” Father Gabriel mocked a tiny smile. “Walk with me to my office would you? You can get to bed after that, it’s late after all. I just want to talk to you,” 

  
Aziraphale didn’t say yes, but she followed obediently. 

  
“Antonia is quite the lady, Aziraphale,” Father Gabriel started. 

  
“Antonia?” Aziraphale asked. 

  
“Your friend. The one who you just left in their room. Really, Aziraphale, how do you not remember her name, she’s your friend, at least from what I’ve gathered,” Father Gabriel shook his head. 

  
Aziraphale didn’t quite understand. Crowley had never mentioned anything about being called Antonia. But she nodded anyway. “Of course, silly me. Being so daft,” 

  
“Right,” Father Gabriel gave Aziraphale a look. “Anyway, she’s quite different from who I would’ve imagined Michael hiring. She’s not exactly a church-going type, is she?”

  
“Well, I wouldn’t know sir. It’s not something we really talk about,” Aziraphale began wringing her hands. 

  
“Hmm,” Father Gabriel turned a corner, and Aziraphale almost ran into it. “I see. Well, besides that, she seems to be suspicious, doesn’t she?” 

  
“What? Of course not. She’s just odd,” Aziraphale tried to defend Crowley. 

  
“Really now? She doesn’t dress like one who works in a church, and much less talks. Even if she’s just a gardener. Now, I know I’m not supposed to judge by appearance, but even you Aziraphale, should see somethings not, quite right?” Father Gabriel stopped walking and turned to Aziraphale. 

  
Aziraphale wringed her hands harder. “I really don’t think there is anything wrong sir. She’s different, is all. She’s knew as well, I’m sure she’ll adjust,” She looked up, the tiniest bit of hope on her face. 

  
Father Gabriel stared for a moment, then began walking again. “We’ll see,” 

  
Aziraphale looked back down and followed. 

  
-

  
“Well, I do believe it’s goodnight, Aziraphale,” Father Gabriel turned to Aziraphale and mocked smiled once more. 

  
“I g-guess you’re right Father, I should get going,” Aziraphale smiled and began to scurry off. 

  
“Oh, Aziraphale?” Father Gabriel called out, stopping Aziraphale in her tracks. 

  
“Yes Father?”

  
“Meet me in my office, Thursday, If you will,” Father Gabriel didn’t ask as much as he commanded. 

  
“Of-Of course, goodnight Father Gabriel,” Aziraphale smiled and almost ran before Gabriel could stall her again. She had three days, it seemed, before something most likely awful.

  
-

  
Crowley stretched boneless-ly as she got up. Her feet hurt far less, which probably had something to do with actually getting something of a treatment for her feet, instead of letting it build up more. 

  
But it wasn’t as though she was going to just sit and let something happen to Aziraphale. Her feet could take the abuse, if she wanted them too. As long as her imagination didn’t become distracted again. 

  
She miracled herself into a different outfit, practically the same as before but with her favorite black denim jacket from the eighties. She had loved the decade, all of the anti-authority stuff going on, it was a decade made for her. She had missed it when It left. She also willed her shoe into existence and on, which was probably making it worse for her feet. But was she going to change that? No. No she was not. 

  
Aziraphale was waiting by the door when she opened it. 

  
“You really shouldn’t be standing dear,” Aziraphale frowned. 

  
“Can’t sit in bed all day, have to see people. Such as you,” Crowley smiled. 

  
Aziraphale blushed. “Well, still. Can’t have you hurting yourself,” 

  
“I’ll be fine,” Crowley assured. 

  
Aziraphale pouted. “Give me a second,” She said before running off. 

  
When she returned, she held a pair of wooden crutches. “If you’re going to be so insistent with walking you might as well be safe as you can about it,” 

  
“Where’d you get those?” Crowley asked. 

  
Aziraphale huffed. “The old gardener broke her leg a few years ago. She left them in the storage closet when she stopped using them. So, with that done, will you please use them?” She had the audacity to use puppy eyes on Crowley.

  
“Fine,” Crowley caved and took them. “But only because you asked,” 

  
Aziraphale smiled rather satisfactorily. “Good. Now let’s get you some breakfast dear. I haven’t seen you eat anything,” 

  
“As long as you get some,” Crowley countered. 

  
Aziraphale frowned and shifted her stance. “I ate before you dear,”

  
Crowley raised an eyebrow, making it clear she knew Aziraphale was lying. 

  
“Alright, but later, please?” Aziraphale didn’t give Crowley puppy eyes as much as she did fearful begging ones. 

Crowley backed down. “Alright, but I’m holding you to it,” She warned. 

  
“Tickety-boo!” Aziraphale smiled. 

  
“Tickety-boo?” Crowley half-groaned, but Aziraphale was already leading the way to the cafeteria. Crowley followed. 

  
-

  
Crowley actually ate a decent breakfast, at Aziraphale’s puppy eyes and request.

  
“Why don’t we visit the garden?” Crowley offered as she dropped her plate off in the wash bin. 

  
Aziraphale smiled, with a frown at the edges. “I’d love to, but I’m supposed to be somewhere today, I’m going to be busy for a bit. You go on and rest dear,” 

  
“Nah, I’ll drive you,” Crowley smiled. 

  
“You need to rest dear,” Aziraphale insisted. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise. You can cuff me to the bed if I’m wrong,” Crowley offered genuinely. “I have them,” 

  
Aziraphale blushed and looked at her questioningly. “Um, well, fine, I’ll hold you to it as well,” 

  
“Good. Well, we should get going, shouldn’t we? I’ll pick you up some food for after you’re done,” Crowley started towards her car. 

  
Aziraphale looked uncomfortable but didn’t say anything as she followed Crowley.   
-  
Crowley pulled in front of the small blue house Aziraphale had directed her towards. “Have fun angel,” She smiled. 

  
Aziraphale smiled back. “Of course,” She got out of the car and entered the small blue house. 

  
Crowley went to go get Aziraphale food. 


	10. Don't Starve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes sure Aziraphale eats something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

Aziraphale was waiting outside the blue house when Crowley arrived. She looked emotionally tired, as well as physically. Crowley wasn’t particularly a fan of it, given Aziraphale deserved to be rested and cared for, but not that Crowley cared. She was a demon, why would she care about it? Stop asking questions.

Crowley stepped out of the Bentley; crutches included. “Hey angel,”

Aziraphale lifted her head up and smiled softly. Like someone would after waking up, soft and thick with sleep. “Hello, Crowley,”

“I’ve got pasta, since you seemed to like it pretty well yesterday,” Crowley said, finishing the distance to Aziraphale.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale brushed some hair back. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it plenty later,”

“Later?”

“I’m awfully tired dear,” Aziraphale admitted. “A bit faint, but I promise to enjoy it as soon as I feel up to it,”

Something about Aziraphale saying she felt faint seemed familiar to the demon, and not in a good way. She had an idea, but it was to be confirmed.

“Have you eaten today?” Crowley asked.

“Of course,” Aziraphale lied.

Crowley frowned; her suspicion being confirmed slightly. “Well, why don’t we start going back to the nunnery? Maybe you’ll feel up to it by then?” She tried.

“Maybe,” Aziraphale smiled weakly, and began walking to the Bentley, keeping close to Crowley.

-

Crowley watched Aziraphale closely the entire car ride. While Crowley was operating at a hundred and twenty miles an hour the blonde seemed to be operating at negative thirty. She was sluggish and feather light, like someone replaced her blood with tar and taken it all out at the same time.

As much as the demon wanted to do something about it immediately, there wasn’t much one could do while driving.

She gripped the steering wheel, a deep-set frown on her face. She drove slightly faster than normal with Aziraphale.

-

They finally arrived back at the church.

Crowley turned to Aziraphale, who looked like she was about to pass out. Crowley had a bad feeling that was true.

“Let’s go to the garden, eh, angel?” Crowley offered.

Aziraphale just nodded. Crowley frowned and grabbed the box of pasta from the backseat, and got out to meet Aziraphale on the other side of the car.

“Use your crutches Crowley,” Aziraphale chided as she got out.

“I’ll be fine angel,” Crowley said. Aziraphale pouted until she found herself leaning on Crowley. The demon was torn between thoroughly enjoying the contact and being deeply unnerved by the suddenness of it. She settled on both feelings.

“Let’s get to the garden,” Crowley began leading Aziraphale, who didn’t have it in her to chide Crowley.

-

Aziraphale almost collapsed when they finally took the first step onto the grass. Crowley caught her, resisting the urge to groan for her theory being proven.

“Hey, hey,” Crowley crooned, helping Aziraphale to the ground. “I’ve got you,” Aziraphale looked at her gratefully while Crowley helped her into a somewhat comfortable position. “Are you okay?” She asked.

“Y-yeah,” Aziraphale smiled. “Sorry about that,”

“Don’t be,” Crowley said, grabbing the pasta box and subtly willing a fork into existence. “When’s the last time you ate?” She asked again. “And don’t say today,”

Aziraphale looked away. “Yesterday?” Crowley seemed slightly unconvinced. “I did!”

“Did you eat anything besides lunch?”

“No,” Aziraphale frowned.

Crowley seemed upset but satisfied with the answer. “That’s why. You need to eat something,” She pulled a bit of pasta onto the fork. “Let’s start with this,”

Aziraphale couldn’t say no this time, she didn’t have it in her.

Crowley’s lips quirked slightly as she fed Aziraphale, almost smiling as Aziraphale perked up with each bite.

“That’s it,” Crowley encouraged. “Feel better, don’t you?” Crowley smiled when Aziraphale nodded. “Guessed so, it can’t feel good to do that,”

Aziraphale didn’t comment on that. She was sure Crowley wouldn’t be very pleased by what answer she was thinking.

Once the pasta was finished, Crowley helped Aziraphale up. And hugged her softly. “Promise not to do that again?”

Aziraphale simply nodded. There was a high chance she was going to do it again.

“Good, now let’s go get you some water,” Crowley smiled and began walking with Aziraphale tucked under her arm.

They were stopped at the door by a familiar face.

“Antonia,” Father Gabriel greeted with a smile. A fake one. “Aziraphale, hello,” He stopped smiling when he said that and started again when he turned to Crowley. “I was hoping to see you, Antonia,”

“Yeah?” Crowley asked, holding Aziraphale closer. “What for?”

“I just wanted to talk to you a bit more, I do enjoy getting to know people who live here, especially the new ones,” Father Gabriel didn’t sound as though he wanted a friendly chat, and more of an interrogation or something else, still not friendly.

“Sure, we can talk right here,” Crowley stated simply.

“Oh, I was hoping we could talk in private,” Father Gabriel didn’t sound like he was asking.

Crowley looked to Aziraphale and back to Father Gabriel. “Alright,” She said. “Aziraphale, make sure you get some water, okay?”

Aziraphale nodded and all but ran off.

“So,” Crowley began. “You wanted to talk?”

“Where did you live before here? You just don’t look like you’ve been in a town like this,” Father Gabriel said.

Crowley looked down at her shirt, who’s neck wasn’t all that low. She might’ve made it lower to piss him off. “Mayfair, I still live there. I just work here,”

“Oh,” Was all Father Gabriel said. “Well, you also don’t look like you go to church, have you ever?”

“I did,” Crowley started. “But I didn’t much care for the bastards telling me I was sinning for asking questions. Or in a different church wanting to go down on one of their lovely ladies, so I just stopped,” The last one was a lie, but still she grinned in delight when she saw Father Gabriel’s face.

“I see,” Father Gabriel cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure you won’t have problems here,”

Crowley knew he was lying; she didn’t need demon senses to know that. “We’ll see,”


	11. Oranges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oranges

Father Gabriel watched Crowley saunter off into the church, a wide, shit-eating grin plastered to her face. He noticed how the grin faltered when she stepped through the door. But he didn’t take much not of it, though, he didn’t write it off completely.

Father Gabriel went to find Michael after he was sure Crowley was distracted with the nuisance nun Aziraphale.

-

Michael stood in Father Gabriel’s office, watching the dark-haired man read over the thin file she had given him.

“This is all?” Father Gabriel asked. “This is all you have on her?”

Michael nodded. “There aren’t many qualifications a person must meet to be a gardener, Father. All you need is a name, an address, a birthday, and nothing more. Antonia met all of that,”

Father Gabriel sighed. “Make sure that gets changed,”

“Yes, Father,”

Father Gabriel handed the file back to Michael. “I don’t like her Michael. There’s something wrong with her. I just can’t place my finger on it,”

Michael nodded in agreement, something always felt wrong when the redhead was near.

“Get Uriel to keep an eye on her. Keep her away from Aziraphale, Michael. I don’t like how _clingy_ the two seem to be,” Father Gabriel leaned back, pressing his flat palms together. “Aziraphale’s already useless enough, she doesn’t need help,”

“I agree, Father,” Michael said.

“Make sure Aziraphale’s doing as I have told her as well,” Father Gabriel ordered.

“Yes, Father,” Michael said.

“You can leave now,”

-

Aziraphale walked alongside Crowley in the garden. She had initially come to make sure Crowley was using her crutches but ended up staying with the ginger. Helping with a plant here and there, but otherwise just walking with her. She didn’t quite know why.

At some point they came across a small potted plant. Aziraphale had never see it before, and it stood out against the mainly floral garden. It was just deep alexandrite leaves sprouting from a short stalk.

Crowley picked it up with two fingers to examine the plant closely.

“Good, no leaf spots today,” Crowley said not to Aziraphale, but to the plant. “But, you’re on damn thin ice. I will make plant food out of you if you don’t keep this up,” She growled lowly before setting it back down and continuing on.

Aziraphale lagged behind, admittedly scared by the display. Crowley had never used that voice or had that look in her eyes except when she was talking to the plants. At least from what Aziraphale had seen. But it hadn’t failed to make Aziraphale fear being under that dark look and being spoken to in such a way.

It made Father Gabriel seemed tame.

-

Crowley was frankly enjoying the walk with Aziraphale. The plants had even learned already to behave well, especially well, when Aziraphale was near. Didn’t even need the threatening sound of the garbage disposal like her other plants did.

Aziraphale was the highlight of it, of course. So beautifully fussy when she insisted to help Crowley with a plant. The demon never had it in her to deny the angel, even when the angel was being annoying by fussing over her. Crowley definitely did not enjoy it; she was a demon of Hell for Satan’s sake.

Crowley might’ve begun staring at Aziraphale after a while. For demonic reasons only, of course. Not because Aziraphale seemed to literally be glowing, as if she were a literal angel. Crowley wouldn’t object if she were.

They walked past an orange tree and Aziraphale picked one of the low hanging fruits.

“You must simply try one of these Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled, beginning to peel the fruit. “They’re wonderful this time of year,” She picked one of the slices from its bunch and held it up to Crowley., smiling.

Crowley didn’t hesitate to take it from Aziraphale, her lips brushing across Aziraphale’s fingers in her haste. Aziraphale blushed crimson, but still pulled another slice and offered it. Crowley once again took it eagerly.

All too soon was the orange finished. But it didn’t mean Crowley was done. She gently took Aziraphale’s fingers and kissed them softly. Tasting the remains of orange on her.

“Thank you, angel,” Crowley whispered, blushing and smiling.

Aziraphale’s blush was deeper now, if it was possible. Her lips were parted slightly, and her breaths were shallow and quick.

Crowley’s imagination wandered once again, this time not at the expense of her feet. She imagined kissing Aziraphale softly, letting Aziraphale taste the fruit she’d been so kind to offer. She imagined what Aziraphale would taste like, sweet she was sure of it. Perfect, too.

Aziraphale didn’t have nearly the imagination of Crowley, but hers was wandering as well. Even if her brain was firmly against any sort of imagination about Crowley.

Crowley and Aziraphale stared, both somewhat afraid in a way to move. And neither minded much, in a way.

The rest of the world did mind though.

“Antonia!” A familiar voice interrupted the peace. “Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale jumped away from Crowley and smoothed herself down. Readjusting her clothing where it hadn’t moved at all.

“O-over here, um, Michael!” Aziraphale called out before whispering, “Antonia?”

“Given name, most people call me it. Only special angels call me Crowley,” Crowley smiled. Aziraphale blushed deeply again.

Michael came around the corner and frowned. Aziraphale was sure it was because of how flustered she looked, something had to be out of place as well.

“I’ve been looking for you all day Aziraphale,” Michael lied, Crowley knew, but it was obvious Aziraphale didn’t. “Uriel needed you hours ago,” Another lie.

Aziraphale looked down ashamed. “I-I’m sorry Michael, I-I wasn’t-“

“I don’t want to hear another bloody excuse,” Michael sighed, she took Aziraphale’s wrist roughly and Crowley watched in silent horror Aziraphale go into what looked like a panic attack. “Just follow me, now,” She ordered.

Aziraphale followed Michael, not even a word of goodbye spared for Crowley. Though, that was the least of the demon’s worries.

Crowley began to follow when Aziraphale turned just enough to plead with her eyes for Crowley not to come.

Crowley stopped following and watched Aziraphale be drug into the church before she ran to the door and hid when she heard Michael’s voice.

“For someone’s sake Aziraphale! You can’t keep this behavior up!” Michael scolded loudly.

“M-Michael, please, I promise you, I wasn’t told,” Aziraphale begged.

“That’s not what Uriel said,”

“I promise!”

Crowley heard a slap, and the floor beneath her dropped.

“Don’t do it again,” Michael warned.

“Yes, ma’am,”

There was a pause. “Good,” Michael said.

Michael stepped back outside. “Antonia, can you please follow me,” She didn’t sound like she was asking.

Crowley didn’t say no, but she didn’t say yes. All the same she followed, her feet taking her against her will.


	12. Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!

Crowley doesn't exactly know why she followed Michael; she had no reason to. She, in fact, had every reason not to. Maybe it was shock, shutting down any reason Crowley might've wanted to use. Or, it was a sort of sleep paralysis, maybe she was asleep. And everything she heard was just the worried frenzy of her dozing mind. Maybe she had never woken up, and everything she had done today was a dream.

But she knew better. She knew not even her dreams could mimic the feel of Aziraphale’s skin, or the sound of Aziraphale’s pleas. Crowley knew better.

Michael choose this time to interrupt Crowley’s train of thought.

“Why are you here?”

Crowley blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t act or look like you belong here, or even like it here. So why did you take the position in the first place?” Michael stopped walking and turned to look at Crowley. “Why?”

“Because I am a gardener, and you needed one,” Crowley answered as if she were reciting it from a book.

“You could’ve taken a position somewhere in Soho, closer to home. Why here?” Michael pressed.

“Why would I have taken another position anywhere else?” Crowley came back to herself, she wanted Aziraphale, and now. But she had to get Michael off her back first.

“You’re not answering the question,” Michael said.

“Why are you asking?”

“Because,” Michael began with a sigh. “As I have already told you, you don’t do anything to make it look like you want to be here or belong here,”

“What am I supposed to do instead?” Crowley answered with a question again.

Michael visibly grit her teeth. “Are you purposely doing this?”

“What?”

If looks could kill, Crowley would be six feet under by now.

“ _That_ ,” Michael grit.

“Hmm? Don’t understand what _that_ is,” Crowley knew this was where she should want to smile, for pissing someone off so easily. But there wasn’t any satisfaction this time.

Michael breathed deeply, exhaling frustration. “I’d recommend you stop being difficult, it’s quite unattractive,”

“Difficult? I didn’t know I was being difficult,”

Michael glared at her, or more like gave her an ominous, murderous look. She left wordlessly, putting on a look as if she had just remembered something she had to do. But the glint in her eyes told Crowley she planned to make the demon talk.

Crowley didn’t care, once Michael was well out of sight, she dropped her crutches and ran, to wherever Aziraphale was.

-

Aziraphale was ready to collapse.

She had done hours, how many she did not know, of volunteer work. Her thick black habit soaked up the unusual amount of sun and baked the nun like a cherry tart. She hadn’t even been allowed to take off her veil. ‘Not what a good nun does now is it?’ Were Uriel’s words.

Aziraphale wanted to be good, so she put her head down and carried on.

As Aziraphale carried a heavy box of supplies to where Uriel told her, well, carried wasn’t the right word, the right word would be barely dragged, a vintage 1930’s Bentley screeched by and parked by the curb. A Queen song that was blasting switched off as Crowley stepped out.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale almost yelped in surprise.

“Know anyone else who drives a Bentley?” Crowley smiled a bit and ran over to Aziraphale.

“Why-why are you here?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley stopped at the question. She knew _why_ she was there, but she realized all at once she didn’t know how to explain it. ‘Hey, heard you being slapped in a church after pleading that you were innocent, just wanted to ask if you wanted to talk about it and possibly run away from that place and come with me to my flat, or a cottage in Devil’s Dyke?’ Seemed a bit forward and not something anyone should say aloud.

“What are you doing in this part of London is the real question angel,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale tried to keep the box in her arms. “You didn’t answer the question dear,” She smiled weakly.

“You didn’t either,” Crowley returned.

Aziraphale began to ask Crowley again ‘What are you doing here?’ when the box she was holding slipped out of her arms.

Aziraphale shut her eyes and braced, waiting for the box to drop. She waited for the dull thunk of it and for Crowley to first look at her in distaste, then anger, and finally she would be in for it as always. 

But when she doesn’t hear the thunk, when she doesn’t hear Crowley’s anger, she opens her eyes. 

Crowley has lunged forward and is holding the box in one open palm. Not even seeming to break a sweat at it. Aziraphale thought that is was absolutely bonkers that a woman skinnier than an alley cat could hold something that heavy; in one hand no less. But all at the same time it is a sinfully wonderful image. 

Crowley moved the box into her arms, and quickly began to act like it actually weighed something to her. 

“Um, be careful there, angel, don’t want you getting hurt?” Crowley cleared her throat. 

“O-of course,” Aziraphale stared for a moment, all her previous fears of Crowley getting angry at her gone. And replaced by two questions: What happened in the Bentley on that day and how in the Lord’s good and graceful name was Crowley holding the box like that?

But she didn’t ask. She didn’t quite know how to. 

“Um, thank you, um, Crowley,” Aziraphale stuttered. 

“Heh, no problem,” Crowley forgot herself for a minute and used one hand to rub the back of her neck. Then as soon as she forgot she remembered and prayed that Aziraphale hadn’t seen.

Aziraphale had seen. 

An odd silence fell between them, bubbling them into a tight space. 

“Well, um, are you gonna answer why you’re here?” Crowley asked awkwardly. 

“If you answer first,” Aziraphale said. 

“You first,” Crowley returned. 

Aziraphale sighed and relented. “Uriel needed me, some church work, you know. I must’ve forgotten about it,” 

Crowley frowned. She wanted desperately to tell Aziraphale she was innocent of what Michael had charged her with, that she hadn’t forgot, and Michael was just gaslighting her.

But she didn’t know how. 

“I can help if you like,” Crowley offered gently. 

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up in a bit of excitement at the offer. But was quickly tampered down. 

“You don’t need to, it’s my job, you know,” Aziraphale shied away from the offer. 

“I want to though,” Crowley insisted softly. 

Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s eyes, or, where her eyes would be if her sunglasses weren’t there. Seeking approval to say yes. 

Crowley nodded. 

Aziraphale smiled a bit and gestured for Crowley to follow. 

This time, Crowley knew why she did. 


	13. Carrying Her to Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley caries Aziraphale to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!

Aziraphale may not have been a good nun by most standards, but she tried incredibly hard. She tried to be the spitting image of what a nun should look like, she tried to be virtuous, and currently, she was trying extremely hard not to stare at a certain red-haired demon.

Crowley had the sleeves of her dark gray button-down rolled up to her elbows. Her arms were somehow both bone-thin and muscular at the same time. It should have concerned or at the very least confused Aziraphale. But Crowley’s arms were sinfully pleasant to look at.

Crowley set down a quite heavy box that Aziraphale could not have attempted to carry. The demon brushed back her sweat slicked hair, the unusually hot sun now getting to her.

Aziraphale was sure she had just committed sin with the mental images that had come to her, and quickly made plans to seek forgiveness for this, hopefully without Father Gabriel’s help.

“Got any more boxes angel?” Crowley chuckled. “Or have I finally run them out of business?”

Aziraphale looked down. “You’ve done more than enough already dear, you should go take a break,”

Crowley smiled softly and gently reached to tip Aziraphale’s chin up. Aziraphale flinched away, and Crowley felt the pit in her stomach begin gnawing at her again. She retracted her hand and wasn’t incredibly comforted by Aziraphale’s relaxation.

“It’s alright, I’m happy to help,” Crowley assured.

“You should take a break,” Aziraphale said. “And you should be using your crutches,”

“It’s fine,” Crowley smiled. “We can take a break together,”

“I haven’t done all that much dear, you sit, and I’ll get you some water,”

Crowley shook her head a bit. “You’ve done plenty of work angel, and if you leave me alone, I might just get back to helping. Unless you got my handcuffs when I was not looking, you’ll have to sit with me to make sure I don’t run away,”

It did not sound mocking or condescending, like it would if Father Gabriel had said it. Aziraphale was surprised by it, how right it sounded. It was as if Crowley had just explained something she already knew, but wasn’t aware of it.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Aziraphale smiled a tiny bit.

“Lead the way angel,”

Aziraphale lead Crowley to a shaded seat, neither noticing a blond man with black jelly eyes watching.

-

Hastur took the direct route to Hell, filthy excitement making his steps heavy and bulky. Just the way they should be. It was an awful day, which for demons meant a fantastic day.

Hastur shuffled through the crowded halls of Hell, searching, and finding his partner amongst the worst of demons, having a smoke and cackling about a recent damnation.

“Ligur,” Hastur purred like a broken car engine, wrapping an arm around the chameleon eyed demon.

“Hastur,” Ligur smiled as affectionately as a demon could. “You’re back early,”

“And with terrible news,” Hastur lit his cigarette from Ligur’s.

“I assume you mean the good kind of terrible,” Ligur took a drag.

“Of course, but let’s take this somewhere private,”

Ligur nodded and walked with Hastur to a more barren part of Hell. Only a few disposables to be seen walking back and forth. They quickly dispersed when they saw the Hellish couple.

“What do you have?” Ligur asked.

“Crowley cares for that nun,” Hastur stated.

“A bit more than that would be nice,” Ligur rolled his rainbow eyes. “We can’t just waltz up to Beelzebub and tell them that Crowley cares for someone with no evidence,”

“Well, we might want to see about using your back channels to Heaven, keep better watch of her, but I see how Crowley looks at that nun. How she cares for that nun,” Hastur took a drag. “She should’ve been done with this one in at most two days, am I wrong?” He asked.

“Well, you’re wrong as a being,” Ligur teased. “But, no. I agree, but how likely is Beelzebub gonna believe us over the serpent of Eden?”

“I think we need to check some records, my terrible,” Hastur kissed the top of Ligur’s head. “I have a felling Crowley’s been doing some shady things when we’re not watching,”

“That’s what demons do,”

“Not in the good way, my awful,”

-

“Where’s Crowley, Michael?” Father Gabriel hissed.

“She’s in the garden, sir, being a terrible pain in my arse,” Michael groaned.

“I told you to keep an eye on her!” Father Gabriel almost shouted.

“She’s not going anywhere, sir, and Uriel’s got Aziraphale handled,” Michael deadpanned.

“You better hope so,”

Michael gave him a look of sheer authority, a dare for him to follow through on his words.

Father Gabriel knew better than to push Michael’s buttons. He had a feeling Michael could do whatever she needed or wanted to when it came down to it.

-

Crowley and Aziraphale sat down in the Bentley, it was dark, and both were ready to pass out.

“Are you sure you want to drive Crowley?” Aziraphale worried her bottom lip. “You’re exhausted and it can’t be good to drive like that. We can call a cab-“  
  


“Don’t worry about it angel, I can drive. If you want, you can sleep while I get us back,” Crowley smiled, starting the car. “No need to fuss,”

“I don’t fuss,” Aziraphale pouted.

“Of course, you don’t,” Crowley smirked just a little and began driving under the speed limit, definitely not purposely dragging the ride back out.

Aziraphale hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the soothing purr of the car, a quiet Queen song playing, and being burnt out had pitted the odds against her.

-

Crowley turned the Bentley off, and looked over to Aziraphale. Her heart which she did not have melted at the sight. Aziraphale was sleeping, more peaceful than Crowley had ever seen her. Her veil had come off her head and rested on her shoulder. Golden curls spilled out over Aziraphale’s face and shoulders.

Crowley didn’t smile like an idiot when she came over to pick up Aziraphale. She didn’t almost discorporate when Aziraphale rested her head unconsciously on Crowley’s chest. Or gasp softly when she noticed the fading pink marks on the angel’s face. Nothing of that happened even once.

Crowley spotted Gabriel and Michael as she carried Aziraphale to her room. Michael and Gabriel looked shocked and scandalized, even though only Aziraphale’s veil was out of place. Crowley, if she didn’t know Aziraphale’s situation, would’ve flipped one pretty bird to them. But she did.

They didn’t approach her, but Crowley had a bad feeling all the same.


	14. A Terrible Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A terrible day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!

Crowley was just outside of Aziraphale’s door, she hoped Michael and Gabriel are still standing where she let them. Talking about Crowley, carrying Aziraphale in her arms, both tired and hair slick with sweat and mussed. Crowley hoped to someone, maybe even a higher power, that they were not think what she thought they were thinking.

But she doesn’t turn to check, not yet.

Crowley shifts Aziraphale in her arms, using demonic strength to easily hold Aziraphale up with one up. The shift causes Aziraphale to stir before Crowley could open the door.

“Mm, Crowley?” Aziraphale mumbled against the crook of Crowley’s neck.

“Shh, angel, go back to sleep,” Crowley cooed, pushing the door open with her foot.

Aziraphale tucked herself back into all the corners of Crowley, squeezing the demon. Crowley tried too reason with herself that it’s just for security, but her mind holds the hope, the smallest ounce of hope, that Aziraphale wants to be close to her.

Then there was a creak of a floorboard under a footstep.

Crowley winced, she tried to get into the room before Aziraphale saw Michael, guessing her reaction wouldn’t be a good one. She was too late though.

Aziraphale squirmed out of Crowley’s arms suddenly, well, more jumped out like a frightened rabbit. She pushed Crowley with a force that would have landed Crowley on her ass if she had not have braced herself on the wall in time.

Crowley couldn’t get a word out before Aziraphale looked to her sadly, apologetically, then ran into her room, slamming the door, whether she meant to or not.

Crowley looked to Michael and Gabriel, who were standing there, looming and angry.

“Sorry for the late arrival, got busy,” Crowley said in an attempt to assure that Michael and Gabriel weren’t making rash judgements on the two’s appearance. The attempt ended up digging hers, and Aziraphale’s, graves deeper.

“I see,” There was a faint rumble at the base of Michael’s voice.

Father Gabriel looked like he wanted to say something with much more vitriol and venom, but Michael shot him a look and he backed down with an icy glare.

“You should get to bed,” Michael didn’t ask.

“Um, sure, yeah,” Crowley pushed herself from the wall and walked past the pair. Her hands clenched with the want to get those two, or at the very least Michael, away from Aziraphale.

-

Aziraphale sat with her back pressed against the door, breathing hard and heart racing.

She was bloody terrified. Michael and Gabriel had seen her in such an intimate position with Crowley. She had seen Father Gabriel’s eyes, she was in for something worse than Hell tomorrow, she knew.

But despite how dead she was, Aziraphale felt safe, somehow. Crowley’s hold was secure and safe, warm, but in the way a fire was when you sat by it. Hot yet comfortable in the coldness of the outside world. Aziraphale didn’t know why she wanted back into it, to feel safe in those arms again.

Her habit smelled faintly of apple and fire when she hugged her knees and hid her face with her sleeves. Aziraphale could only guess it was Crowley’s smell. It was wonderful, so soft and nice for the pointy woman who screamed at her plants.

After a few minutes of pulling herself together, Aziraphale slipped into her bed, not bothering to take off her habit. Not because she wanted the traces of Crowley to be near her for as long as possible.

Aziraphale normally would not have been able to sleep on a night like this. Her brain on overdrive, making every scenario in all of creation to torture her with. But tonight was not a normal night, it was anything but. She breathed deeply, inhaling as much of Crowley as possible, and hummed a few notes of a song she didn’t know the name of.

She dreamed of those firm honey-colored arms holding her.

-

Right now, Heaven and Hell are in a type of Cold War. Armageddon is not to come for a while, so until then, they sit and watch. Taking souls where they can, playing a numbers game. Destroying each other on sight if seen.

But in any war, enemies can, and will, work together to get what they want or need. Whether or not the superiors approve.

-

“Ligur, what are you calling for?” The Archangel Michael, not associated with the human woman Michael, asked.

“I need a favor,” Ligur stated.

“Of course, you do, but I am not indebted to you fiend, whatever you want has a price. And what is it you want?” The Archangel Michael said coldly.

“Surveillance on a demon,” Ligur said.

“Hm, that’s going to cost you quite a few souls,” The Archangel Michael said, moving to a more discrete part of Heaven.

“I can get you some low-level scum? About twenty a week. Dagon doesn’t handle those as much,” Ligur offered.

“Twenty a week, for how long?” The Archangel Michael asked.

“About a month or two before Dagon decides to audit souls,” Ligur said.

“Alright, but why do you want this demon watched?”

“We have reason to believe are demon is being quite good, and not in a demonic way. And if _someone gets through those files sometime this century_ ,” Ligur raised his voice slightly, as if he wanted someone not on the phone to hear. “We’ll have a case for a punishment, though we won’t know what Beelzebub might choose,”

The Archangel Michael smiled sharply. “Well, who is it, and can I join in if this works?”

“The demon Crowley, and I would think so,” Ligur grinned.

“Oh, I remember her, quite the bitch,” The Archangel Michael groaned. “Terrible taste in creating too, I’ll be happy to help get some dirt on her,”

“Good, you’ll get your first set of souls soon,”

“Counting on it,” The Archangel Michael hung up and snapped her fingers, making a tall and lanky principality appear before her.

“Y-yes ma’am?” The principality stuttered.

“I need you to keep an eye on the demon Crowley, I will send you details when you’re on Earth,” Michael stated. “I want you down there immediately,”

“Y-yes m-ma’am,” The principality stuttered and began to walk off.

“And Jeremiel?” Michael began, stopping the lanky angel. “Fix that damn stutter, it’s becoming dreadfully annoying,”

“Y-y-ye-yes ma’am,” The principality ran off before Michael could degrade her voice again.

-

Aziraphale awoke the next morning, a well of dread in her stomach. She didn’t pay attention to it though and continued on as normal. She didn’t want to think about it, though her mind was adamant that she was going to.

When she stepped out of her room, Father Gabriel was standing in the way.

“Aziraphale, can we talk? Now?” Father Gabriel acted like it was an ask, but it definitely was an order.

“Of-of course,” Aziraphale smiled and began to follow her executioner. She could only hope that Crowley wouldn’t be in any trouble for this.

-

“Where were you yesterday, Aziraphale?” Father Gabriel asked, only a step away from a snarl.

“With Crowley helping Uriel,” Aziraphale said.

“Uriel said you weren’t there at all,” Michael talked down to her, as if she were a child being scolded.

“I was!” Aziraphale cried out. “I was carrying supplies for her!”

“Then how, tell me Aziraphale how, did you end up in that snake’s arms?” Father Gabriel growled. “You two’s hair in an awful and messed state, you sleeping?”

“She came to help me, and it was so dreadfully hot. I hadn’t been able to take off my veil, and she had been carrying so much. I was tired, and she didn’t wake me up,” Aziraphale explained.

“So, you let another person take up _your_ work, Aziraphale. Then make it their problem to take care of your slothful self?” Father Gabriel said coldly.

“That, that’s not what happened!”

“Then you committed the sin of lust with her, I presume?” Michael said.

“No! T-that’s not it,” Aziraphale felt tears well up.

“Well, either way, you’ve sinned again, Aziraphale,” Father Gabriel said. “But, we can’t guarantee that you did something that could remove your position as a nun. So, you will have to be punished,”

“Please, sir-“

“You only have yourself to blame,” Michael took Aziraphale’s wrist in hand, and began leading the blonde to the basement.

Aziraphale didn’t fight, she didn’t think she could.

-

Crowley came out of her room just as Aziraphale was pulled out of sight, into the basement.

A heavy feeling sat in her gut, telling her the worst.


	15. Made of Many Points of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The points of view for many characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!

Most angels are terrible at pretending to be human. This is because most angels, or more accurately, high-ranked angels, do not spend much time, or any, on Earth. But the lower ranked, angels and principalities, are usually better at hiding.

-

Jeremiel checked their suit, immaculate and white. Just as the archangels approved of, if they ever cared enough to check on their subordinates, or at least not in a threatening way.

She was not aware that she looked like someone who worked in a large corporate business, not completely untrue, and not someone who was going to be working as an archival assistant for a church in the middle of no-where England.

Michael hired Jeremiel without consideration of the new guidelines she had put in place. Whether it was because Jeremiel was an angel, or because of a small angelic miracle to skip having to talk to the human who was incredibly like her boss.

Jeremiel was ready for this job to end as quickly as possible.

-

Crowley stared at the basement door, shaking. She knew something terrible was happening, something terrible was happening to _Aziraphale_. She knew she should go down there and help Aziraphale, damn it, she wanted to. But her shaking hands stayed at her sides, her chest even stayed static. Her mind screamed at her to _move_ , for the love of all that was bloody holy to _move_. But still she stood in place.

Crowley knew it wasn’t as much the fear of finally seeing what might happening behind closed doors, it was the fear she wouldn’t be able to control herself if she saw it. It was selfish, and stupid. She was a demon, it shouldn’t scare her to lose control, it was the very foundation of her being. But it did. She didn’t want to think of what would happen, how much of her real self she would reveal. How much damage, or death, she would cause.

She sat by the door, still shaking. When a piercing scream rose out, she felt tears drip down her face.

_Coward_ , she repeated to herself. _Coward_.

-

After what felt like millennia, the basement door slowly began to open. Crowley shot to her feet, ready to care for Aziraphale, even she felt incredibly guilty. Then, the door swung open, Aziraphale was on her knees, trying to support herself on the door, but too weak to begin.

Her veil was missing, and her pale blonde hair was in a horrible state. The strands closest to her face stuck, Crowley could only guess it was tears, and she didn’t want to guess anything more than that. The rest was wild and frizzed. So different from the perfectly dressed and immaculate Aziraphale Crowley knew.

“A-Aziraphale?” Crowley choked on her words.

Aziraphale looked up at her for a second, with glassy and raw eyes, and bright red imprints of where a hand had struck her face.

Aziraphale quickly pulled herself to her feet, and was that blood dripping off her calf? Crowley hoped it wasn’t. She ran off wordlessly.

Crowley stood frozen before her feet decided that it was time to pick up where Crowley had left on and began running.

-

Jeremiel sat in the dusty archive of the church. Boxes of files were strewn about the floor; records littered the desk. The walls were probably molded from the smell of it.

Jeremiel loved it.

It was everything Heaven was not. Messy, unorganized, dusty, not white or gold. It was perfect.

Jeremiel was now a little hesitant to try to get the job done so quickly. The Archangel Michael was not something she was keen on returning to so soon now, maybe she could stall it a little. Not enough to be at fault for sloth, of course. Just enough to enjoy it a little.

That couldn’t be a sin, right?

Jeremiel set to cleaning up the place just enough so she could function.

-

Hell, for all its filth and grime, was incredibly well organized. That was because Dagon was a demon of wrath, or torture to be exact, and would put her abilities to use whenever a demon even so much as put a box of files from the eighteenth century in the section for the eighteen-hundreds because she chose to use the dumbest method of counting time the humans had created. Hastur blamed Crowley for introducing it to her.

But it was organized, and clean.

“Why’s it taking you so long?” Ligur shouted to Hastur from the entrance of the Archive of Hell.

“Dagon sorts it by the years! Not the damn demon, Ligur!” Hastur shouted back. He had a stack of Crowley’s reports from all the events she had laid claim to causing and all the things she’d been assigned too. But that had taken hours, now he had to find reports from other demons, even himself. Otherwise he was just throwing accusations at the Serpent of Eden.

“Well hurry up! If Crowley sends a report today, or any demon for that matter, then Dagon’s going to be down here, and she’ll torture us ‘till the next century, if we’re lucky,” Ligur hissed.

“Shut it already, I know,” Hastur snarled and pulled out a report from Asmodeus during the French Revolution.

“Found one, Asmodeus,” Hastur called out.

“No one’s gonna believe Asmodeus, they’re always too busy being fucked or getting fucked,” Ligur hissed.

“Well, it’s something,” Hastur snarled.

-

Crowley stood outside Aziraphale’s door.

Both of them had been completely silent for the last thirty minutes, Crowley was too scared to start the conversation, and Aziraphale didn’t want Crowley to have the burden of her faults and failures. It was her weight to carry not Crowley’s.

Crowley, meanwhile, was ready to carry the world on her back. Aziraphale being said world or carrying the world for said Aziraphale.

Crowley raised her hand to knock because someone had to start talking. And there was an almost one hundred percent chance it would not be Aziraphale.

She rapped her knuckles against the wood of the door and took a deep breath. “Angel?”


	16. Here To Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is there to help.

_ Crowley raised her hand to knock because someone had to start talking. And there was an almost one hundred percent chance it would not be Aziraphale. _

_ She rapped her knuckles against the wood of the door and took a deep breath. “Angel?” _

“Go get lunch C-Crowley, I’ll join you in the ga-garden later,” Aziraphale whimpered from the other side of the door. 

It wasn’t a ‘bugger off’, so Crowley didn’t leave. 

“Can I come in angel?” Crowley asked. 

“Y-you don’t w-wa-want to,” 

Again, it wasn’t a no, so Crowley didn’t leave. 

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I want to, angel, it’s whether or not you want me to,” Crowley responded. “I won’t force you to talk, don’t have to explain anything. Won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” 

There was a long pause and Crowley waited for Aziraphale to say no. 

“Okay,” Aziraphale said barely loud enough for Crowley to hear. “Y-you can come in,” 

Crowley opened the door slowly, giving Aziraphale time to take back her answer just in case. But there wasn’t a sound as Crowley slid in. 

-

Aziraphale was in an even worse state. 

Now that she was given a moment to let everything sink in, her breaths became short and wheezing. Tears dripped down her reddened face, obviously struggling not to fall apart into broken sobs. 

Crowley took a deep breath and began speaking. “You can cry if you need to angel. I will leave if you need. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling,” She smiled softly, trying to give assurance. 

Aziraphale, without any forewarning broke. Even with Crowley’s statement she still expected the woman to be angry at her sudden burst of emotion. But there wasn’t a word just a shift in the bed when Crowley sat beside her. 

“Do you want a hug angel?” Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale nodded and let Crowley coil her arms around her and squeeze gently. Aziraphale not so subtly hid her face in the crook of Crowley’s neck, and if the demon noticed then she didn’t say anything. Aziraphale breathed deeply and relaxed into the smell of Crowley. 

Crowley began timidly running her fingers through Aziraphale’s messy blonde curls, slowly gaining confidence. 

-

Eventually Aziraphale’s sobs died down into hiccups. 

“Are you doing better?” Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale made a slightly positive sound. 

“Good, do you want some water?” Crowley asked, but it sounded like: _‘I know you need water, but I’m not going to force it.’_

Aziraphale wasn’t ready to let Crowley go, not yet. On top of that she had already made enough trouble for the redhead as it was. She didn’t want to make Crowley go away because of her. 

“How about I get some water, and you can drink it as you need,” Crowley left it open for objections or add-ons, but she didn’t ask. 

After a negotiation of limbs and some resistance to the demon’s leaving, Crowley was able to get up and grab some water, and secretly will a towel, a bowl, and some bandages into existence. Crowley didn’t have high hopes for Aziraphale letting her deal with whatever part of her legs that were bleeding. But there was hope. 

-

Aziraphale looked far better when Crowley returned.

“For you,” Crowley handed her the glass of water, and smiled when Aziraphale drank it. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“No problem,” Crowley smiled, but frowned again when Aziraphale’s gown hiked up the slightest and revealed a stripe of dried blood. 

“Your leg,” Crowley began. 

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale quickly butt in, a shakey smile that looked two steps away from falling apart. 

“I can help, if you want,” Crowley offered. 

“I’m fine,” Aziraphale insisted. 

“You don’t have to say yes angel,” 

Aziraphale knew she should say no, because the whole reason she was like this is because she was too close to Crowley. But she melted into Crowley’s sweet words and soft embrace all the same. For a moment forgetting that Crowley might be at risk. 

“Please,” Aziraphale whispered. 

Crowley knelt at Aziraphale’s knees and took out the extra supplies she willed. “Tell me to stop anytime,” 

Aziraphale shoved down many very sinful thoughts when Crowley gently pushed her gown up to her thighs. 

-

Jeremiel wasn’t a bad angel, but she wasn’t a particularly good one either. 

She hadn’t forgotten her job, but at the moment she was choosing to ignore it. The much cleaner archive was far more interesting than whatever Michael wanted with that demon. 

She had months. She wasn’t going to rush this job. 

Humans were turning out to be more interesting, and more of something, than she could’ve imagined. 

-

Hastur and Ligur began to leave the archives, a wonderful amount of evidence with them. Crowley would be utterly fucked when they got the pictures from Michael. It would be a very pleasurable sight at seeing what terrible thing Beelzebub, and Heavens, the Archangel Michael, would do to the pathetic demon. 

Not so sadly, a disposable demon, who kept insisting that they had a name, Eric, was sacrificed. As Dagon was coming down with a stack of reports, and well, it wouldn’t be much help if they were being tortured by Dagon would it?

They lurked off happily when they heard the disposable demon’s screams and Dagon’s various sounds of fury and sick pleasure. 

-

“Well, what do you want to do about her?” Michael asked, obviously annoyed by Father Gabriel. “I can’t keep her off Aziraphale, as you’ve seen, without getting rid of her and we cannot do that right now,” 

”Leave her be for now, she’ll get tired of Aziraphale yet, if not we’ll take care of it then,” Father Gabriel said. “But Aziraphale, she’s becoming a problem,” 

“She’s always been, nothing’s changed,” Michael sighed. 

“Well, yes, but she’s gotten worse,” Father Gabriel sighed. “What o you suggest we do,” 

“She could always go to Julie’s house more often, you know how she reacts to that,” Michael suggested. 

“Mm, not bad, go through with that, and do get someone to keep a better eye on her,” Father Gabriel said. 

“Of course,” 

“You can leave,” 

-

Crowley was ready to scream. 

She had gotten in between many legs in her life, not that she did anything more after that. But this one was the one that was going to kill her. She tried not to shake as she bandaged Aziraphale’s legs. 

Aziraphale wasn’t in a much better state. She didn’t know the first thing about any of well, _that_. But a book here and there gave her some ideas, some ideas that she tried her best to get rid of. 

Crowley might’ve miracled the whole process to go faster, but she wasn’t going to admit to that. 

“There you go angel,” Crowley spit out all in one breath. 

“Thank you, C-Crowley,” Aziraphale attempted to hide her blush. They really shouldn’t be this close, but it was so nice. 


	17. On Speaking Terms With A Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale have a day. Two demons are on speaking terms with a prince.

“Do you want to talk about it, angel?” Crowley asked, sitting up on the bed again.

Aziraphale blinked. Her head was still processing Crowley sitting in between her thighs, gingerly brushing them with the tips of her fingers while bandaging them. She sat for a few too many seconds thinking about that before pushing it aside.

The real question wasn’t exactly if she wanted to, more if she wanted someone else to carry that weight. Or Crowley to carry that weight to be specific. She couldn’t just put that on Crowley. She cared to much. But Crowley wanted to know and-

“I think I’ve gotten my answer,” Crowley said, interrupting Aziraphale’s thoughts. “And that’s okay, you don’t have to.

Aziraphale blinked, taken off guard by Crowley’s words.

“But I’m here if you want to. Hell, if you want to, wake me up and we can talk. Not like I’m doing anything besides sleeping,” Crowley laughed and stood up and began leaving. “Oh, and angel,” She paused at the door. “I’m going out to grab some things, you can come with, and maybe we can get some lunch?” Crowley was in fact not going out if Aziraphale wasn’t.

Aziraphale thought a minute, then nodded.

“Good, see you outside in a tick, eh?”

Aziraphale nodded again.

-

After Crowley left Aziraphale took a few minutes to compose herself. Then she stepped out to meet Crowley outside.

“Aziraphale,” Michael said, not sparing an actual greeting.

“M-Michael!” Aziraphale squeaked, surprised by Michael’s sudden appearance.

“You’re going to be visiting Julie and Rosamunde more often,” Not even an act of kindness from Michael.

“W-why?” Aziraphale timidly asked. “She was doing j-just fine-“

“Don’t question me Aziraphale,” Michael said sternly. “Just do it,”

“Y-yes ma’am,” Aziraphale whispered and ran off.

-

The next day, Crowley was in the garden when Aziraphale was the one to approach her this time.

“H-hello Crowley,”

Crowley leaned back and smiled a bit. She was still worried, well, terrified for Aziraphale was the right word. But she didn’t want to upset an already quaking Aziraphale. “Hello, Aziraphale. Doing better?”

“Y-yes, of course,” Aziraphale mumbled, and Crowley wasn’t much convinced. “Well, I-I wanted to ask you something,”

“Ask away, angel,” Crowley smiled.

“Well, y-you see,” Aziraphale stopped and breathed deeply before continuing. “I have to go back to the house you drove me to, and I thought it would be nice if we did it again. Of course you don’t have to and it’s just an offer but I thought you might’ve enjoyed getting out again and-“

“I’d love to,” Crowley grinned and stood up. “I’ll get some of those oranges to nibble on,”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Aziraphale smiled a bit. “But please use your crutches Crowley,”

Crowley blinked she had forgotten that even now her feet were being barbequed.

“Oh, yeah those,” Crowley snorted. “I’ll make sure to use them, as long as it keeps you happy,”

“I’d rather you had a bit of concern for your health,” Aziraphale mumbled.

“Then we can go with that,” Crowley smiled and went off to get her crutches.

-

“Lord Beelzebub,” Hastur bowed slightly before the prince.

“Quit doing that until it stops pizzing me off,” Beelzebub groaned. “You’ll figure out when,”

Hastur briefly made a note to have a disposable demon with him the next time he talked to Beelzebub.

“Of course, but that was not what we came here for,”

“It never izz,” Beelzebub sighed. “Speak before I call Dagon over,”

“Alright,” Ligur spoke this time. “We have reason to believe the demon Crowley, has been up to things,”

“Her and every other demon,” Beelzebub barked a laugh. “If thiz izz what you’re coming to me with I might just drag you down to the seventh circle myself,”

“We’re not a pair of daft gits my lord,” Ligur hissed.

“Might disagree, but go on,”

Ligur hissed before continuing. “Crowley has been up to things, and not in the demon way. Do you remember the Spanish Inquisition?”

“What izz thiz? One of those pop quiz thingzz Crawley invented?” Beelzebub snorted. “But, yezz, one of her finer deedzz,”

“Well, my lord, we checked reports from Asmodeus and Charun from that time,” Ligur began.

“Lucky baztards, almost got dragged from prince to disposable by Dagon for doing that,” Beelzebub interrupted.

“And their reports clearly state that Crowley wasn’t anywhere near Spain, or Europe. She was in Asia,” Ligur finished.

“So? She lied, demons do that,”

“Of course, but she also lied about the French Revolution, the American Civil War, both world wars, and everything actually evil she took credit for, not one demon laid a hand on,” Ligur smirked at the end, seeing Beelzebub’s curiosity peaked.

“Oh,” Beelzebub started to both smile a frown.

“And, my lord, I think you might want to know this as well, we found some records for demonic miracles,” Hastur began. “Though they were damaged by a leak, we were able to find that Crowley repeatedly used her miracles for good,”

“ _Oh_ ,” Beelzebub growled.

“And the recent assignment you’ve given her, the one with a nun. We have some ideas about that, and we’re gathering evidence. If you give us a bit, we’ll have it so even Satan will bring down the serpent of Eden,”

“Take all the time you need,” Beelzebub’s voice sounded like rumbling stones. “I think it’zz time to set a standard in Hell, don’t you?”

-

Crowley was pacing.

Aziraphale had been gone for two hours now, much longer than the last time. Crowley knew she had to be overreacting, but it didn’t settle the twisting and nausea like feeling in her stomach. It didn’t help that her brain supplied her the wonderful memory of the last time she had brought Aziraphale here. The tired and hurt look on the angel’s face was not lost to Crowley.

Crowley finally decided to lie down on the grass instead of pacing.

Another hour later, Aziraphale finally came out.

She looked like she had just had a panic attack. Her eyes were slightly raw and her breaths hiccupped slightly.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley popped up.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled tiredly and walked over. “Shall we get going? I’ve taken up so much of your time already,”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Crowley smiled. “And don’t worry. My time is yours to take,”


	18. The Countdown Has Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clock has begun to tick.

While Crowley was gritting her teeth and hoping to someone that either Aziraphale would start talking or she herself would buck the Hell up and do something, a principality was getting comfortable. Maybe, too comfortable.

-

“Jeremiel,”

Jeremiel barely restrained herself form jumping across the room at the sound of the Archangel Michael’s cold voice.

She looked up at the archangel and smiled nervously, her throat wanted to give the Archangel Michael a greeting, to avoid a mess about not being polite. But as the words hit her tongue, she felt the words break and stutter, and she killed the words where they stood. Panic rose as she tried to get a proper ‘Archangel Michael’ greeting out without stuttering which was, in Jeremiel’s experience, impossible.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” The Archangel Michael asked icily, a flicker in the very back of her eyes as if she expected Jeremiel to either stutter miserably or Jeremiel’s jaw to remain stuck. And it was a sadistic flicker.

Jeremiel decided that either way she was fucked in ways Asmodeus couldn’t dream of, and chose the hopefully lesser of two evils.

“H-Hello, A-Ar-Archangel M-Michael, h-h-how can I ser-serve you, i-in the name o-of H-Her?” Jeremiel recited the phrase from memory. She knew that the last part was most likely a poor excuse for the Archangel Michael to do what she did.

The Archangel Michael frowned deeply, but the sadistic flicker grew into a flame. “How many times have I told you to fix the damned stutter?”

Jeremiel felt like she was stranded in the great big flood during Noah again, waves crashing over her and keeping her trapped in the dark water.

“M-ma’a, I pr-promise I’ve tried-“ And Jeremiel had tried, but it was clear that God either wanted her broken or was incredibly drunk when She made her.

“I don’t want your damn excuses,” The Archangel Michael gripped Jeremiel’s jaw hard enough o bruise, and for a small moment Jeremiel wished the Archangel would just stop pretending and be as cruel as she wanted, instead of the small bits of glass she would stick in Jeremiel’s head to make her feel weak.

“Fix it, or next time I’ll fix it for you,” The Archangel spat and if they were not angels Jeremiel expected the release of her jaw would be far more forceful. “But that wasn’t what I came here for, your assignment, is what I came here for. You need to speed it up. Get pictures, and bring them to me immediately, understand?”

Jeremiel simply nodded, resisting the urge to heal her sore jaw.

“Good. Now that we’re done with that I can get going,” The Archangel Michael stood and began to leave, but stopped halfway through. “This place is filthy; you should really take care of it. It’s unbefitting an angel, isn’t it?” She snapped her fingers and the place was clean enough to be a more crowded version of Heaven.

Jeremiel nodded.

“Good,” Then the Archangel left.

Jeremiel sniffed back frustrated and hurt tears, unwilling to give the Archangel the pleasure of her crying, even if she wasn’t there.

She didn’t miracle the dust back, Michael would’ve seen the miracle, and it wouldn’t be the same anyhow. She didn’t get up to go get evidence, instead lying her head down. Not sleeping but doing something close.

She knew the countdown had begun, for the demon, the nun, and herself.

-

Aziraphale sat alone in her room. Crowley had said the garden needing a bit of tending to, and that Aziraphale looked like she needed a moment alone. Aziraphale hadn’t objected but she didn’t want the redhead to leave, she wanted to be in her arms again and to not think about how much she hurt.

Aziraphale tried to sleep, to rest and not think for a while. But she couldn’t, she expected Michael and Gabriel to come back and be upset about her being around Crowley again.

She stood up and pulled up her mattress again, and instead of grabbing the makeup and gloves, she reached into an almost invisible slit and pulled out a thick and worn copy of a collection of H.P Lovecraft. Aziraphale wasn’t happy about storing her books this way, but she didn’t have a choice.

Michael and Gabriel weren’t fond of her reading choices, mostly because they weren’t His word. And maybe had slightly Satanic or other sinful things in it.

Aziraphale opened it up to the middle, where a still bright marigold sat pressed in between. She didn’t dare lift it out, as to not damage it anymore than it was being stuffed into a mattress.

She felt comforted by looking at the gift from Crowley.

-

Crowley herself was not screaming at plants, but doing a sort of group therapy where only one person can talk, and the rest don’t have trauma until the person that can talk gives it to them by using the rest as a coping mechanism.

“I’m a fucking coward,” Crowley sighed. She was in her apartment, because only her plants got to hear all of her fuckups. “I could be helping, trying at the very least. But I don’t want her to be uncomfortable and shit, so I’m only letting her get hurt more by being too fucking careful. Am I being too careful?”

The shaking plants did not respond.

“No, I’m not. But I’m still a coward, I could’ve helped her, but no!” Crowley shouted. “Could’ve gotten her out of there, and far a-fucking-way from that place, but no! All because I was afraid of doing what I’m supposed to do and lose control!” She was only a few octaves from screaming in frustration.

The shaking plants still did not respond.

“And I’m sitting here feel sorry for myself when Aziraphale’s being beaten ‘round,” Crowley sighed. “Dear Satan, I’m fucking pathetic,” She stewed for a few moments before standing again.

“I’ve got to get back to the church,” She mumbled.

Her plants stopped shaking finally.

-

Angel’s didn’t touch each other because it was weak. Demons did because it was crowded and angel’s didn’t do it.

“I hope to Satan that Crowley slips up soon, I’d rather not Beelzebub get bored,” Ligur mumbled against Hastur’s jacket.

“She will, I know it,” Hastur said, wrapping another arm around the smaller demon.

Ligur sighed. “But if she cares about that nun, then there’s a whole bloody lot that can go wrong,”

“Yes,” Hastur agreed. “But I see that nun as well, she cares for Crowley. And as long as Crowley isn’t a dumbass and makes sure the nun doesn’t find out about who that prick is, then we’ll have the pleasure of watching her suffer,”

“I hope you’re right,”


	19. A Pinic Made For talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Feel free to check out my tumblr @a-piece-of-void

The next three weeks went by the same for Crowley and Aziraphale. Dancing at arm’s length around the burdening issue, Crowley stepping closer, just close enough to see through the sew-on smiles and cracking porcelain masks, to touch Aziraphale, comfort her. Then right back to her place and preforming it again and again.

But their dance was not unwatched.

-

Jeremiel was their watcher, their very very _very_ tired watcher. Of course, angels didn’t need sleep, but Jeremiel was starting to think that the Archangel Michael could make anyone want to sleep for a hundred years.

It wasn’t even Jeremiel’s fault, really. She had gotten hundreds of photos of them hugging, kissing each other’s hands, eating from each other’s hands, the last frustrating her enough that her camera was almost sacrificed in an attempt to feel slightly better. But the archangel had deemed them useless and was getting more detailed in her threats, incredibly detailed, Jeremiel could write a horror book with them.

Jeremiel was about ready to just force these two to kiss for one moment and get what she needed, but something always stopped her. Humans watching was what she wished was happening, but it was always that damn demon.

While Jeremiel tried to convince herself that demons could never act the way that demon did. But even her firm belief in that one piece of Heaven, didn’t stop her mind wandering.

The second week she gave up and went to bed, sleeping for a miraculous two weeks and a handful of days before the Archangel Michael raised Hell, well, Heaven’s version of it.

She would live though, true violence wasn’t to happen in Heaven, not yet at least.

-

The interior of Crowley’s brain was, at one point, fairly clean. There wasn’t much in there, a few things rambled about, but nothing concerning was there, or at least nothing concerning was acknowledged, so it therefore didn’t exist.

Within four weeks it had become worse than the seventh circle of Hell. Due entirely to her restless thoughts, and the tearing at her own self that Crowley was doing.

Eventually, after getting locked in her room for a week by Aziraphale because she had once again fallen to her knees because of her feet and being left with her thoughts, Crowley decided to take the cork out of her throat and steel herself to pushing just slightly.

Well, that was the intent. It took a few days, some terrified plants, and a couple bottles of something heavy and drinkable, for the demon the get to where she needed to be.

-

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, her eyes wide.

“Angel,” Crowley greeted suavely. “Didn’t think you’d come,” Less suave.

“I couldn’t have said no to you,” Aziraphale admitted, almost wanting to take back her words the second they poured out.

Crowley’s head refused to acknowledge the weight of the words and instead chided her for the whole damn setup. _Really?_ _A bloody picnic? In her own backyard? Not to mention you brought wine and she probably doesn’t even drink, unless she’s done it for some church reason, and you don’t even know you haven’t thought this through you daft git. Even if she does enjoy this, you’re only bringing her up to drag her back down lower. You shouldn’t-_

“Crowley?”

Crowley blinked and forced herself back into reality. “Um, sit? I can go get chairs if you want though,”

Aziraphale simply smiled and sat next to Crowley on the blanket, smoothing out her gown.

Crowley was beginning to regret not getting a bit buzzed before but continued forth.

“I got some sandwiches,” Crowley began, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck as she now debated disappearing the wine. “Nothing much, but I hope you like them,”

“I’m sure they’re great,” Aziraphale’s smile was brighter than the candle Crowley had set in an old wine bottle.

Crowley breathed deeply, deciding not to miracle away the wine. “I-I, well, brought some wine over, thought it would be a nice surprise, but we don’t have to, of course. Just something to spike the night, if you want?”

Aziraphale looked to the garden entrance to the church, leaning to see past the small gathering of bushes and trees. She looked back at Crowley.

Crowley held her breath and a small part of her hoped Aziraphale would reject the offer so that she wouldn’t feel like shit about coaxing Aziraphale to talk while drunk. She really should just throw it off the table now, avoid being an arse. But Aziraphale struck first.

“I, well, haven’t drank anything before,” Aziraphale admitted.

Crowley let go of that breath a little. “Why not just start out with a glass or two tonight, don’t want you getting sloshed first time ‘round, eh?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Take the lead,”

Crowley popped the cork and poured one out, feeling a little less guilty now that she wouldn’t be stealing secrets from a drunk woman. Unless Aziraphale was a true lightweight.

Crowley drank from the bottle.

After they both had relaxed, Crowley a little less than Aziraphale, Crowley took a moment, then spoke.

“Can I ask you something, angel?”

“Yes,”

“Why are you a nun, here? There’s plenty of good places, so why here?” It wasn’t the exact question Crowley wanted, but it was a start.

Aziraphale shifted a bit. “Well, I can’t just leave. This is my home, I was raised here, this is everything,”

 _But it isn’t,_ Crowley thought, but didn’t speak. “Raised here?”

“Yes, that’s why Michael and Gabriel are so close, they raised me, and want the best for me, I can’t just leave my…” Aziraphale trailed off, the word _family_ hung on her tongue, bitter and broken. “I can’t just leave,”

Crowley sighed a little, but anger spiked in her belly. _How dare they? How dare they raise something this beautiful and destroy it little by little? How dare they be allowed?_

A heavy silence hung for a moment.

“Can I ask you something, Crowley?”

“Yeah,”

Aziraphale paused and squirmed a second, trying to convince herself that Crowley wouldn’t hurt her.

“What happened with the radio in your car when you took me to lunch the first time?”


	20. Drinking With A Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you drink with demons?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! Thank you for reading!! Feel free to chat with me on my tumblr @a-peice-of-void

_“Can I ask you something, Crowley?”_

_“Yeah,”_

_Aziraphale paused and squirmed a second, trying to convince herself that Crowley wouldn’t hurt her._

_“What happened with the radio in your car when you took me to lunch the first time?”_

Crowley froze, her whole body literally tensing. She hadn’t thought that Aziraphale would ask that, a great fault on her part, always thinking of every possibility and accounting for it. Her brain frantically searched for an excuse, one that Aziraphale would bite on and leave the topic alone, forever, if she were lucky. But the thought of forever pulled Crowley off track and so she began thinking of how bad a match they were, human and demon.

Somehow, in all of this, Crowley had begun talking, well, lying, though Crowley herself didn’t know when she had started.

“Angel, I’ll confess,” Crowley began.

Aziraphale waited for Crowley to continue, watching the demon slam down the bottle of wine faster than a human should be able to.

“I don’t only work here. This is what I like to do, but I have another ‘main job’ if you will. My bosses aren’t particularly nice, arsehats if I’m honest, and they’re pushy. That was just a call from them, asking for a report,” Crowley smiled a bit, hoping it gave off reassurance. “Nothing more,”

“Why did they call you Crawly?” Aziraphale asked, though she had so many more questions.

“Old name, dead to me. They haven’t gotten the memo though that it’s supposed to be buried,”

“Oh,” Aziraphale shifted closer to Crowley. “I’m sorry,”

“Eh, can’t change what you can’t change,” Crowley said.

“Who do you work for Crowley?” Aziraphale asked suddenly.

Crowley pulled out a bottle of wine. “Why don’t we get sloshed? Figure out your limits?” She asked, not in a headspace to think about the hangover, or hangovers, or what might happen.

Aziraphale blinked, her curiosity spiked at Crowley’s dodging, but she didn’t want Crowley to leave, or worse. So, she smiled and picked up her glass. It wouldn’t be bad, spending time with Crowley, even if she wanted answers so badly.

“Why not?”

-

Jeremiel would’ve wished she was awake, with how close Crowley and Aziraphale were getting while drinking. Though, she would be the only one to remember it if she were.

Crowley was at this point blackout drunk, and Aziraphale likely wasn’t far behind. Anxieties had melted, and so had logic and any semblance of the original seriousness of which Crowley had planned.

-

“You’re-you’re…you’re, pretty,” Crowley stumbled over her words.

“M’not, you are, pretty hair, and cheekbones,” Aziraphale squinted and reached over to brush her thumb over the bridge of Crowley’s glasses. “And, and, eyes, I think,”

“Psh, s’nothing but, but, wishwash, you’re very pretty,” Crowley leaned over and cupped Aziraphale’s face. “Soft, and pretty eyes, pretty face, beautiful,”

“Soft, not beautiful or pretty,” Aziraphale pouted.

“Soft is pretty, s’like, dandelions, or blankets, nice, soft like warm, s’nice,” Crowley brushed her hand through Aziraphale’s hair. “Soft, soft, nice and soft, pretty,”

“You’re just saying that,” Aziraphale pouted.

“Nah, not a good liar, me,” Crowley said, forgetting that, yes, she could lie when she wasn’t at the wheel when speaking. “You would know, s’easy. You’re pretty,”

Aziraphale pouted and began to rebuke with a reason Crowley was lying, she coughed, and then a second later pushed away from Crowley to throw up the day’s stomach contents.

Crowley moved over to pull back Aziraphale’s hair, and rub circles into her back in an attempt to comfort.

“Let it out angel,” Crowley cooed. “There we are, that’s our limit. Sorry about that dove, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,”

Aziraphale choked out the last of the bile in her stomach, and sat up, tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, hey,” Crowley willed the picnic around them to disappear along with the throw up, not really thinking that Aziraphale was right there. Not that Aziraphale would remember. “Hey, don’t cry angel, I’ve got you,”

Crowley miracled a wet cloth into her hand and set to cleaning up Aziraphale, gently cooing and brushing Aziraphale’s hair with her fingers.

When Aziraphale was cleaner and more calm, Crowley willed a glass of water and handed it to Aziraphale.

“Drink some angel, you’ll feel better,”

Aziraphale drank it with shaking hands, but visibly improved after.

“There we are, that’s it, now let’s get you to bed, s’need to sleep,” Crowley picked up Aziraphale, swaying a bit on her feet, but stable all the same.

-

Crowley’s intent was to just let Aziraphale sleep on her own, meet the next morning and exchange odd looks as they tried to remember the previous night.

Aziraphale had other ideas, and when Crowley tried to set her down in bed, she latched her arms around the demon’s neck and whined.

“Stay?”

Well, Crowley was in no position to say no, and it wasn’t like she didn’t want to. So, consequences forgotten, she took off her jacket and shirt, and slid into Aziraphale’s bed beside her.

They unconsciously twined together.

-

Crowley woke first the next morning.

Her head pounded, which, while not unexpected, was miracled away quickly. She slowly took in the environment around her, noticing that while it looked somewhat like her room, it wasn’t hers.

“What the…” Crowley trailed off when her eyes landed on Aziraphale, head tucked into her neck, smiling softly as she breathed. Crowley looked down at herself, seeing that in fact she was topless.

Her stomach dropped.

She sat up as fast as she could without waking Aziraphale, and when she noticed that her jeans and shoes were still on, a part of her relaxed.

Crowley looked over to Aziraphale, and found her still covered in her robes.

_So, we didn’t have sex while incredibly drunk. Thank you lord._

Crowley pulled her short off the floor and put it on, hoping that it would make the scene a little less awkward if someone walked in.

She checked her watch, somehow it was only four am.

Crowley snapped her fingers, making sure that Aziraphale would be left alone for the rest of the day.

She slid back into Aziraphale’s arms, almost gasping as Aziraphale pulled her close and seemed happier in her sleep.

Crowley wouldn’t rush things too fast, they still had time.

Or she hoped.


	21. Kidnapped For Five Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is finally approached by a tired Jeremiel who wants to get out after the unfortunate incident at Heaven that week. Not that she was physically maimed mind you. And Crowley is a little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy!

When Crowley had woken back up, she was neither in her room nor Aziraphale’s. Which was, in simple terms, incredibly concerning. She was also tied to a chair, which wasn’t helping. She began thrashing blindly, it was a stupid move looking back, if it was Hell, her original conclusion, she probably would’ve been hit with a crowbar to get her up first off. And well, thrashing and acting terrified would’ve dug a deep grave.

“S-stop, st-stop!” A voice whispered-yelled. “Stop st-strugling!”

Crowley stopped, and her puffed hair fell over her face. “Who in the Heavens are you?” She asked loudly.

“Keep it down,” The still concealed voice said. “I’ll te-tell you if you p-promise never to re-repeat my name to any-anyone,”

“Fine,” Crowley spat, not seeing another option.

There was a snap and a lanky angel, Crowley only knew that because their wings were spread out, was doused in light.

“My name is Jer-Jeremiel,” Jeremiel stated. “And I pr-promise that this is-isn’t what it looks like,”

Crowley looked at her tied hands and ankles, around the cramped archival room, and back up to Jeremiel. “Am I getting the wrong message here? Is this a surprise party? Some kinky shit I’m dreaming of with a totally random person? Because I don’t feel anything down there and honestly you are not my type,”

Jeremiel looked a little insulted. “I would n-never allow myself to be part of a demon’s sex dreams!”

“Hey, whatever gets you or me going, y’know?” Crowley shrugged in a semblance of raising her hands in a gesture of ‘Whatever.’

Jeremiel hissed. “That’s not-not what I tied you up for,”

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing what you had in mind, mind you, I don’t really enjoy being tied up, I’m more of a tie-other-people-up sorta demon, but I could experiment,” Crowley snarked. Not having much care for what the angel was hearing. If anything, it could make them uncomfortable enough to leave.

“Would you shut up? I’m trying to save both of our skins here!” Jeremiel quietly shouted without a break in word.

Crowley looked a little taken aback. “What do you mean? You’re an angel, you should be dumping holy water on me, taking me up to head office, something. That would save your skin, but why mine? I’m a demon,”

“Not ev-everyone in Heaven h-h-happens to be…you know,” Jeremiel frowned. “And if I don’t get what I need from you wh-while you’re still alive I will have a very u-unhappy Michael to deal with,”

“Wot?” Crowley looked confused.

“I can’t tell you everything, I could die for that at the very least. But I need you to kiss the nun, and let me get a picture. Don’t even think about anything under the robe, I need something to keep Michael entertained,” Jeremiel said.

“Adjgf-wot-dkjnfdskjn-“ Crowley made more sputtering noises.

“If y-you don’t, I will take wh-what I need,”

“You said you wouldn’t tell me what was going on! You just did!” Crowley sputtered.

“I didn’t, I tol-told you what I n-needed, and once I-I get it, I recommend you run, alpha centuari is wo-wo-wonderful thi-this time of year I hear,” Jeremiel said coldly. It wasn’t really her intent, but of course, there was a reason that the archangels spoke with such ice in their throats.

Crowley growled. “Tell me what the Heavens you are talking about-“

Jeremiel snapped her fingers and Crowley was returned to Aziraphale’s room.

-

Crowley blinked, and looked around. Aziraphale’s room again.

She had been placed on the bed, so she turned to snuggle back into Aziraphale, not wanting to think about what happened. She really did hope it was a really weird dream, but she knew better anyhow.

Unfortunately, Aziraphale wasn’t there.

Crowley bolted up in a panic, but slightly settled down when she saw Aziraphale pacing back and forth. Now in a fresh set of clothing, which made Crowley question how many she had if there was more than one.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley said, eyebrows tilting in concern.

“Oh!” Aziraphale jumped a bit but calmed when she saw Crowley. “Oh, Crowley,” Then a pause. “Crowley?”

“Yup, it’s me,” Crowley said. “What’s wrong? You look worried,”

“Well, um, it’s quite late and I can’t remember what happened last night and you’re in my bed,” Aziraphale mushed the words into one sentence.

“Well, we got drunk, blackout,” Crowley started. “I can’t remember the rest, but I guess you wanted me to stay with you through the night, and besides that, you were still dressed the first time I woke up, so nothing else happened, I had jeans on as well,” She finished.

“Oh, well, I suppose it’s okay, just a mistake made under the influence,” Aziraphale tried to brighten up, it wasn’t a bad thing she was lying that she didn’t want to or cared about sleeping, even innocently, with Crowley, or how much she wanted more of it.

Crowley felt a jab of pain at the wording.

Aziraphale diverted the subject. “It’s so late, they won’t be happy,” She worried.

Crowley knew who ‘they’ was and smiled. “Well, when I woke up, I made sure to tell them you weren’t feeling well, and I would take care of you. They’ll leave you be for today,”

Aziraphale worried her gown more instead of answering.

“You had too much last night, you probably feel like crap, and haven’t had anything to eat, eh?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale nodded slightly.

“Yeah, so, let me take care of that, eh? Just lie down and let me take care of things?” Crowley offered.

Aziraphale couldn’t resist temptation and sat beside Crowley.

“There we are, just lie back, relax, there you go,” Crowley smoothed her hand across the small of Aziraphale’s back. She was so close, and she thought about how easy it would be to just kiss her, give that angel what they wanted so that they could fuck off and leave them alone.

But she didn’t. She wasn’t as her coworkers were, creepy to be nice about it.

“There, let me take care of it,”


	22. Report To Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley reports to Hell, and finally goes inside the blue house.

Crowley forced down gags as she narrowly avoided the chunks of rotting flesh and mold spawning from various fluids suck to the cold halls of Hell. Once, an incomprehensible amount of time ago, she would have thought that she’d at least get used to it. But it always seemed to get worse every time she went down. Not that she went down much, or at least tried not to.

Crowley stepped fast, trying to get to Beelzebub and out of Hell as fast as a demon could while minding their steps.

_Bloody good day for Hell to call me down for a live report_ , Crowley thought, finally reaching Beelzebub’s office. Unusual spot, but Crowley found it nice that if Beelzebub was in a bad mood her discorporation wouldn’t be a public event.

Crowley sucked in a deep breath, and walked in.

-

“Lord Beelzebub, nice to see you again, been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Crawley,” Beelzebub said. “Been a while since you’ve written a report, hasn’t it?” They mocked.

“Well, you know how it is, temptations need a lot of work, get caught up,” Crowley stuck her hands in her extortionary small pockets and sauntered around a bit, trying to look as relaxed as possible.

“Hm, and why izzz it taking so long?” Beelzebub asked.

“Told you, takes work,”

“Yezz, but that does not excuse all the time you are taking,” Beelzebub said. “Asmodeuzz has fucked more humanzzz in a decade than you have in a month,”

“Asmodeus doesn’t have class!” Crowley retorted. “The best they do is add to the sin pile!”

Beelzebub approached Crowley, and though Crowley could easily pick the munchkin off the ground and throw them into the next millennia, she shrunk back a bit.

“That izz all well and fair, but I really, really do suggest that you hurry up, I don’t think you’d be keen if I reassigned you,” Beelzebub had hiss _reassigned_ , but Crowley felt like _reassigned_ was a nice way of saying something far darker.

“I’ll try, but don’t blame me if you get sloppy work,” Crowley smirked weakly.

“We’ll see,” Beelzebub smirked, and Crowley didn’t get it, but had a knot in her gut about it.

-

Crowley cursed, rather loudly. Something was incredibly wrong and she didn’t like not knowing what was wrong. Beelzebub was up to something, she knew, taking the time to remove her from her charge for a meeting, a private one at that. And now that she was alone, and had time to think about it, the angel that had kidnapped her. They were up to something, something for Michael. And Crowley wasn’t in comfort hearing that angel’s name.

“Why, in all of Her and my creations, can no one let me have a good thing?” Crowley shouted, slamming her hands down on the steering wheel, making the Bentley brake hard, of curse without bringing harm to Crowley.

“Sorry,” Crowley muttered., though she couldn’t bring herself to feel all that sorry.

Crowley turned past the church, knowing that at least for today, that place was the least of her worries.

Instead, she continued driving. She tried not to think too much, which usually wasn’t a hard job, especially with some alcohol, but there were times and places for everything. And tried to focus on Aziraphale. Crowley would be fine. At least for now.

“Fuck, should’ve gotten her food, she probably hasn’t eaten,” Crowley spoke to the Bentley.

“She likes pasta, should’ve gotten pasta,” Crowley muttered, coming to a stop in front of the blue house.

“Could miracle it, but it probably won’t be good,” Crowley’s pupils tightened, she had stopped blinking at some point, long enough for even her vision to go fuzzy. She wasn’t talking to anyone anymore either, a conscious part of Crowley liked the blankness that was going on. But another wanted to wake up.

“She needs to eat though, even if it tastes bad,” Crowley snapped her fingers and a take-out box of hot pasta appeared in her lap. The sudden weight and warmth snapped her back into reality.

“Pray for us, Bentley, ‘kay?” Crowley asked, not waiting for a response, before leaving, because cars cannot pray, not even Crowley’s car. It would be quite inconvenient if cars did.

-

Crowley could’ve knocked, but she did like surprising Aziraphale with things and wasn’t in the mood to put in the effort of talking to anyone else, so she snapped her fingers and walked in.

It was quiet, awfully quiet. For a place that seemed to tire out Aziraphale, it was deathly calm. Abandoned almost, like the old hospital she and some teenagers had broke into in the 30’s. Smelled like a running one though, disinfectant and some blank medicinal smell that was hard to place.

“What in the hell…” Crowley whispered, almost afraid to break the silence.

Then there was noise, coming from a nearby hall, sounded like singing. And even to Crowley’s weak hearing, it sounded like a one of the principalities had come to visit.

Crowley walked as quietly as she could to the source of the singing, feeling as though the voice was more familiar as she stepped closer.

And it was familiar, very familiar in fact, as it was Aziraphale herself singing. And if Crowley wasn’t sure before Aziraphale was definitely an angel playing human.

But what caught Crowley’s attention next was a small child, well, only small because they were thinner than Crowley, which concerned the demon some. And that said child was curled up in Aziraphale’s lap as she sang, shivering.

Crowley couldn’t begin to describe the feeling in her chest. In all of her life, she had seen so many good people inflict the pain the world had wrought on them. So many demons become enveloped in the wrath that had hurt them.

But there was Aziraphale, who had every right to be bitter, to be angry with the world, and wasn’t.

Crowley didn’t think there was anything else like it, or her.

Crowley absently snapped a blanket into her hand that wasn’t holding pasta and stepped gingerly into the room.

“Hey, Aziraphale,”

Aziraphale jolted and looked up at Crowley, eyes wide.

“Crowley?”

“Mhm,” Crowley agreed, stepping closer. “How’s it going?”

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked. “I thought you were going to be at a meeting,”

“Got out early,” Crowley smiled, and draped the blanket over her and the kid. “Brought food,”

“I-I,” Aziraphale stuttered. “Thank you?”

“No problem,” Crowley smiled. “Your singing by the way, really pretty, even with my snake ears,”

Aziraphale blushed. “Thank you, but I know you’re exaggerating,”

“Am not,” Crowley mocked hurt.

“Sure,” Aziraphale smiled. “Um, why did you come in? You could’ve waited, if you had wanted,”

“Come on, and skip out hanging with you?” Crowley teased. “And your food would’ve gotten cold,”

“Well, thank you,” Aziraphale smiled.

“What’s the kiddo’s name, by the way?”

“Oh, well, it’s Rosamunde,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve been taking care of her a while, well, years actually,”

“Hm, nice name,” Crowley smiled. “Would you like some pasta?”

“Can’t while I’m holding her,” Aziraphale said. “She needs extra warmth,”

“C’mon, m’warm, eat your food,” Crowley offered, though she was lying about being warm. She was in fact incredibly cold.

Aziraphale didn’t notice that, and let Crowley scoop up Rosamunde and sit on the floor with the kid in her lap.

Aziraphale stared for a few seconds, her chest feeling to small for her heart.

“Thank you,”

“Don’t worry about it,”


	23. Soft and Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is soft, definitely not strong. Crowley disagrees with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!

Crowley exited the house with Aziraphale leaning half-asleep on her shoulder. It didn’t bother Crowley; in fact, she welcomed the touch. It worried her how tired Aziraphale was, that it seemed every visit here drained her to this point. _What was Aziraphale doing, or taking, that caused this?_ Crowley wondered.

Crowley’s thoughts were stalled as Aziraphale let out a pained sound as she sat down in the Bentley.

Crowley spun her gaze to Aziraphale and sighed in relief as it seemed that Aziraphale wasn’t in any pain. At least not physically.

“You okay?” Crowley asked, setting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Y-yeah,” Aziraphale tried to not stutter, and failed.

“You sure? It’s alright if you aren’t you know, it’s fine,” Crowley assured. “Not that you have to tell me,”

Aziraphale sat silent for a moment. “I’m fine, I just need to be stronger, less soft,” She answered.

Crowley blinked. A part of her seethed at the idea of Aziraphale considering herself weak, too soft. There was no world where Aziraphale wasn’t the strongest being Crowley ever and could meet. Softness wasn’t a bad thing either in Crowley’s book, especially with Aziraphale.

“Hold on a second there, angel, I would like to respectfully, or not, disagree with that,” Crowley said.

“It’s true Crowley, I’m, _soft_ ,” Aziraphale looked down, ashamed.

“And?” Crowley asked. “You’re soft, so what?”

“It makes me weak, too soft to handle things I should be able to,” Aziraphale sighed.

“Angel,” Crowley tilted Aziraphale’s chin so that she would have to look up at her. “You are the softest creature I have ever met; you are a marshmellow,”

Aziraphale tried to look away as she felt tears well up.

“And, you are the strongest woman I have ever met, and probably will ever meet,” Crowley said seriously. “I don’t even know everything you’ve lived through but look at you. You _lived_. You’re still soft, even through that, you haven’t grown hard. How crazy is that?”

“But I can’t help her because I’m soft!” Aziraphale cried, tears rolling down.

“Wot?” Crowley asked, confused by the change of events.

“I can’t help Rosamunde,” Aziraphale choked. “She’s sick, somethings wrong _, I don’t know_. Her parents, they don’t care, they won’t help, I’m the only one who knows she sick and I _can’t_ help, Crowley,”

Aziraphale broke down, clinging to Crowley’s arms like a lifeline.

“Oh, oh,” Crowley softened. “Aziraphale, angel, that isn’t your fault angel, not at all,”

“It _is_ ,” Aziraphale argued.

“No, not at all angel. You couldn’t have changed that at all, it’s not your fault you can’t, not won’t, can’t help,” Crowley soothed. “Can never change people like that. If anything Gabriel should be trying to help,”

“I should though,” Aziraphale sniffed. “He just doesn’t know,”

Crowley disbelieved that but didn’t comment. “Angel, you can’t do everything. Even if you ‘should’, it just can’t happen sometimes. And it’s not like you’re doing nothing, you’re doing all that you can. Which is a Hell of a lot,”

“It’s not enough,” Aziraphale protested.

“Not in general, but for you, it’s more than enough,”

Crowley kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head. “You will always be enough,”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, teary, yet stunned by the kindness. The gentleness. Scars that had marked themselves on her back seemed to fade a bit.

Crowley kissed one tear stained cheek, before dragging a slightly snake-like tongue over it, catching the tears that fell down.

Aziraphale squeaked and couldn’t help her laughter as she tried to push Crowley away. “Crowley!”

Crowley smiled and kissed the other cheek, before licking it as well. She continued swiping her tongue over Aziraphale’s cheeks despite her squealed protests.

“Crowley! Please! S-stop!”

“Mm, say you’re soft and string and I’ll think about it,” Crowley said as she licked another stripe.

“Crowley!”

“Say it,”

“Please!”

“Say it and I will stop,” Crowley paused for a moment, waiting for Aziraphale to start.

Aziraphale breathed deeply, gathering herself a bit before starting. “I-I’m soft,”

Crowley licked again. “And?”

“S-strong,” Aziraphale forced out.

“Again,” Crowley licked again.

“I’m soft, and-and strong,”

“One more time angel,”

“I’m soft and strong,” Aziraphale giggled as Crowley licked down to her neck and finally stopped.

“Very good, better believe it now, cause it’s true,” Crowley grinned. “Got it?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale smiled.

“Good, now, do you want to go back to the church?” Crowley asked.

“Gladly,”

-

Crowley wasn’t surprised to find that Aziraphale had fallen asleep by the time she rolled up in front of the church. The poor thing was exhausted.

She lifted Aziraphale up into her arms, breathing deeply as Aziraphale’s familiar sweet vanilla scent hit her. She would kill to be able to get that more.

She was careful this time, making sure that no one saw her passing with Aziraphale through the halls. Or at least, to the best she knew.

Jeremiel had been walking up and down the halls, frustrated by the lack of evidence. She really had tried being patient, but Michael was getting closer, and more pissed.

As she was making her fiftieth round she was stopped by a very interesting sight.

Crowley carrying Aziraphale like a bride, a sleeping one. And the demon leaning down to press a kiss to the nuns cheek.

Jeremiel couldn’t believe that finally there was something. That after all that waiting that those two had done something. She snapped a camera into her hand and took the picture before her shot was gone. It wasn’t a mouth kiss, but hopefully it was satiate the Archangel Michael. Give her some time.

Crowley pulled back and carried Aziraphale into Aziraphale’s room.

Jeremiel ran off before Crowley could spot her, giddy that she had a little proof.

Her happiness was short lived though, as a sick feeling sat itself in her gut. She hadn’t considered what would happen to Crowley before, she was a demon after all, why should and angel like herself care? But having proof, a nibble of evidence, put the thought in her mind.

Crowley would likely die, she knew that much if the Archangel Michael was involved. But she hadn’t thought of Aziraphale, what would happen to the nun without Crowley? What would happen if she was left to the monsters for too long? Would she make it out okay?

She pushed all these thoughts away, but the sick feeling stayed.


	24. Trouble Speaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiel is having trouble speaking. Michael has her evidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading darlings! Please note there is some mild gore in this chapter.

Jeremiel stared at the photo on her desk. She had been so excited for it when she took it, excited she had something to show for her work, which really hadn’t been much work; a lot of screaming internally and walking around, but now she felt wrong about it. Like she held the power to determine someone else’s fate, and her own. Which, in fact, she did have that power. And she wasn’t pleased by it. 

Now, to be clear, she didn’t much care what happened to the demon. They were, for one, a demon after all, and not even a particularly good one either. Not worth the Archangel Michael’s breath as far as Jeremiel was concerned. 

It was the nun she cared about. 

The poor thing obviously hadn’t had a good day in the last two decades of her life. And it never seemed to get better for her. The facts had Jeremiel questioning, just a bit, why someone so devoted to Her, even if she wasn’t, was allowed to be hurt like this. 

Jeremiel picked the photo up, staring absently at it. Could she really give this to the Archangel Michael? Doom the demon to at least torture and leave the nun alone once again? Could she bring herself to risk her own life for the nun either? 

As she was pondering this, there was a creak of floorboards as someone stepped close to her. 

“Ar-cha-changel M-Michael!” Jeremiel sputtered, flustered as she quickly hid the photo. 

“As you were,” The Archangel Michael said. 

“W-what brings y-you he-here ma’am?” 

“I came to check on you. Me and my coworkers in this are getting very much tired of waiting. So you better have gotten some results or I will have you replaced by a more competent angel,” The Archangel threatened. 

“I’m v-very close ma’am. I p-p-promise with a-a bit more time-”

The Archangel Michael grabbed Jeremiel’s chin, studying the young principality’s face. 

“You know, Jeremiel, I am no demon. I can’t sense a lie no more than a demon can sense the love in things,” The Archangel Michael said, seeming rather bored with the situation at the same time as she seemed to see right through Jeremiel. “But I can read a person, Jeremiel. I can get a sense of when they are lying. So, tell me again, do you have evidence of the demon Crowley’s traitorous behavior?”

“I-I do n-not,” Jeremiel pushed out, knowing that she had just fucked herself greatly. She didn’t really know why. After all, what was she doing but protecting a demon and a human. But she didn’t take it back. 

The Archangel Michael sighed, and squeezed Jeremiel’s jaw with her hand, waiting until there was a singular cracking noise before stopping. “One more time, tell me what you have. Lying is a sin you know,” 

Jeremiel wanted to scream in pain, but steadied herself. “I-I do not tell l-l-lies ma’am, I-I have no-nothing,” 

The Archangel Michael smiled, ever so slightly. “How do you manage to be so stupid?” She squeezed Jeremiel’s jaw again, and didn’t stop as it cracked, once, twice, and three times before she couldn’t hold her grip on it. She dropped Jeremiel, letting her fall to the ground. 

“You know, it has been such a long time since I used this to bring order,” The Archangel Michael pulled a sword blazing with bright blue fire from thin air. “Forgive me if I’m rusty,” She knelt down and pushed Jeremiel’s broken jaw open. “I always did say I would fix that sutter of yours,” She forced the sword in and cut Jeremiel’s tongue clean from it’s base. 

“There, fixed,” 

Jeremiel began choking on the flesh and blood, so she forced herself to get up on her hands and knees and spit out the tongue and blood. She wheezed and choughed, and when she tried to say something, no more than an intelligible noise came out. 

The Archangel Michael searched through Jeremiel’s desk while this was happening, and found the picture. “Thank you, for the evidence, such a shame we had to do this to get it,” The Archangel disappeared. 

Jeremiel slumped to the floor, painful tears pouring out, and surrounded by her silver blood. 

-

Ligur and Hastur lurked the halls of Hell, picking off the occasional disposable and throwing them into a hellhound cage when they felt like it. It was meant to be a date, but it ended up being the two sulking about the wait for Crowley to incriminate herself. 

“Oh, Ligur!” 

Ligur looked over to see the Archangel Michael approaching, with something in her hand. 

“Well, what a sight to see an angel in Hell,” Hastur noted. 

“It isn’t like I want to be here, demon, I have business with your partner,” The Archangel said. 

“Which means you also have business with me,” Hastur growled. 

“Hastur, it’s alright my awful, she’s just got something that we need. No harm to me or you,” Lgur said, looking back to the Archangel Michael. “So, what do you have?”

“I have a picture, not perfect evidence. But it should be enough for Beelzebub to have probable cause to go after Crowley. Or at least keep them occupied while my useless angel stumbles upon another compromising moment,” 

Ligur smiled widely. “Truly terrible of you Michael. So, I assume you will want a little more for the picture, or am I wrong?” 

“I’m an angel, we’re gracious. I’m offended you’d think me greedy,” The Archangel Michael said. “Getting to kill that demon will be payment enough,” 

“Well then, I suppose I should thank you for the help?” Ligur took the photo. 

“Don’t,” The Archangel hissed. 

-

Crowley stared up at the ceiling. She had been meaning to go to sleep hours ago, but she couldn’t. Not with the torrent of thoughts in her head. 

_What was Beelzebub getting at? What was that angel talking about? Why did they want me to kiss Aziraphale? Why do I want to kiss Aziraphale-_

Crowley groaned and flipped onto her side. 

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you can!!


	25. Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiel almost bleeds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the love! Lots of blood in this one so be warned.

Crowley sat up in bed, there was something wrong. She had eventually fallen asleep sometime in the night, but woke up to the smell of blood. She stuck out her long snake tongue and reeled at the saturation of it, and specifically what’s blood had woken her up. Angel’s blood. 

She carefully began following the scent, if she was honest with herself, which she often wasn’t, she should’ve just let whatever angel was in here bleed out and not bother herself or get killed, but she couldn’t. 

She followed the smell to a door labeled ‘ **Archives** ’ in bold, chipping letters. The door merely concealed a staircase, not much unlike the basement’s staircase, and the similarity made Crowley shiver.

The smell got worse, more overwhelming, as she went down. Part of her wondered what the Hell had caused this much ozone-copper smell to waft out. 

There was a small pool of silver at her feet when she opened the door to the archive, which had been locked before. And as she stepped in a spotty trail went on for as far as Crowley could see, bloody handprints occasionally popping up around the trail. She looked back and saw that the doorknob had dried silver on it. 

Feeling sick, she continued on, using the trail as her guide as to where to go. 

She wasn’t ready for what was there when the trail ended. 

There was a considerable pool of silver blood, enough that when Crowley accidently stepped in it there was a ripple. There was also a lump in the pool, and it looked fleshy, though Crowley couldn’t tell what it was. 

That didn’t really matter compared to the angel that was lying next to the pool, blood pouring out of their mouth. And worse, Crowley recognized the angel. 

“What in the bleeding fuck?” Crowley asked, her jaw in her hands. 

The angel, Jeremiel, Crowley remembered, looked up weakly, half-glossed eyes and muttered a sound that couldn’t be translated as any word. Their fingers barely snapped and the river of blood stopped a moment before gushing again. 

“Oh sweet Satan,” Crowley rushed to pick Jeremiel off the ground, blood getting onto her shirt and soaking down to her skin. It was sickly warm. 

“Fuck, shit, God,” Crowley laid Jeremiel onto her desk, opening up her jaw to figure out what was bleeding, quietly fixing the breaks in her jaw. “What in the Heavens happened to you?”

She quickly found out when she couldn’t feel Jeremiel’s tongue inside her mouth. Crowley looked over to the lake of blood, and willed the silver to part, revealing the tongue that should’ve been in Jeremiel’s mouth. 

“Oh Lord,” Crowley whispered. “Who did this to you?” She asked. 

Jeremiel gathered what was left of her strength, gripping Crowley’s arm tight, hoping to convey the message that she was dying as Crowley stood there. She couldn’t go back to Heaven, she just couldn’t. 

Crowley seemed to understand, and pushed her fingers back into Jeremiel’s mouth, healing the wound. She had tried to place a new tongue in her mouth but the wound wouldn’t let her do so. 

“There you are, the bleeding should stop,” 

Jeremiel rapidly tapped Crowley's arm, the blood had pooled in her mouth and she couldn’t effectively swallow it at the moment. 

Crowley turned the angel on her side and watched Jeremiel cough and spit out blood.

“There, you’re okay,” Crowley picked Jeremiel up again. “It’s okay. Let’s get out of here,” 

Jeremiel clung to Crowley, she would’ve been embarrassed if she wasn’t so tired and sore. The demon was the only thing she could even trust to help her right now. She just wanted to sleep. 

“Don’t fall asleep just yet,” Crowley said. 

They arrived in Crowley’s room, and the demon set Jeremiel on her bed. 

“Don’t sleep just yet, you’ve lost too much blood, I don’t even know how you made it through an hour. Stay awake for a bit,” 

Jeremiel made a noise, but complied. 

“Alright, I’m going to help by asking you questions. First, who did this to you?” 

Jeremiel sighed and put her hand over her mouth. 

“Can you sign?” Crowley asked. 

Jeremiel could, but it felt tiring to think about it. But then again, everything felt tiring. 

“ _Michael,_ ” Jeremiel spelled out. 

“Bastard,” Crowley hissed. “Why?” 

“ _Good angels don’t keep back information, don’t lie, don’t protect demons or their nuns,_ ” 

“Protect me from what? Protect Aziraphale from what? What did you lie about, what did you hide?” Crowley felt anxiety eating her insides. 

“ _A photo of you kissing the nun. Someone in Hell wants you dead, or worse. Michael wanted to join the fun and I had to get the photo. I tried to hide it, I did. You are in danger. So is the nun_ ,” 

Crowley knew why Beelzebub had been acting strange. They knew what was going on. “Who wants me dead? Who wants to hurt Aziraphale?” Her voice flared at the end. 

“ _I don’t know,_ ” Jeremiel couldn’t keep signing, she was so tired from everything. She let her hands fall to her sides. 

“It’s okay, you can rest now,” Crowley pulled Jeremiel so that her head rested in the demon's lap. “Rest now,” 

And Jeremiel did. 

-

“Thanks for not dying in the middle of the night,” Crowley greeted the next morning, a bowl of soup that had everything but the broth removed. “I brought food, seems to help these flesh-suits out,” 

Jeremiel raised an eyebrow, and gestured to her mouth. 

“It’s just soup, you don’t even need to chew. It’ll help me if you don’t give out. It shouldn’t be that hard anyway,” 

It was actually quite difficult to even drink without a tongue. The first attempt Jeremiel started choking, the second was quickly aborted, and the third got close but was another choking hazard. 

“One more try, we’re so close,” Crowley said. “Just a tiny bit this time,” 

Jeremiel nodded and let Crowley attempt to feed her some more. She wished she at least had a little left of her tongue to make it easier, but managed to find a way to swallow.

“There we go!” Crowley sighed triumphantly. “Finally, now let’s get you a little less closer to death,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!


	26. Away From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley takes Aziraphale away for a day, and the forces of Heaven and Hell get busy for the big day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! Literally thank you so much your support of this story means the world to me. I'm sorry it took so long to update, but I hope you enjoy.

Crowley paced the garden, nerves going haywire. 

Hell knew about her, her infraction, her slip-up, or they were just around the corner from it. And what was she to do then, when they inevitably came after her? What could she do? What would they do to Aziraphale, there was no guarantee they would leave her alone. Hell didn’t presume innocence, Hell didn’t care anyway. 

Crowley sighed. She needed more time to think, there was nothing she could do about it at the moment anyway, even if she wanted to. 

Crowley snapped her fingers and appeared back in her bedroom. Jeremiel looked up at her tiredly. 

“Hey, how you doing?” 

Jeremiel shrugged. 

“That’s better than dead I assume,” Crowley said. “Do you think you would be fine if I headed out for a bit? No one’s gonna come and bother you while I’m gone if you’re wondering,” 

_ “No one?” _

“Not a soul, human or otherwise,” Crowley answered. 

Jeremiel nodded. 

“Great, thanks,” Crowley turned to leave. “I’ll be here if you need me, don’t worry, don’t even have to think about it,” 

Jeremiel smiled. _ “Thank you,” _

“‘Course,” 

-

“What are we going to do about Crowley?” 

Beelzebub hummed. “Well, we can’t kill her, unfortunately. She zzzimply went zzoft, we’ll need something that’ll stick, not stab,” 

Dagon thought for a moment. “Well, have we looked into that nun of hers?” 

“What are you going on about?” Beelzebub asked, interest peaked. 

“It’s merely a suggestion my lord, but if you want something that will truly stick with a demon like her, you can’t hurt the demon themselves, they’ll run right back into it, no regard for their own safety,” Dagon began. “But if you were to, as example, point the reminder somewhere close, it’d stick, I would think,” 

Beelzebub smiled, in a truly sick way. “Are you suggesting we do something to the nun, instead of Crowley?” 

“Just suggesting,” Dagon said. 

“Wouldn’t be any trouble with it, would there?”

“It’s a human my lord, no one would bat an eye at it,” Dagon sated. 

Beelzebub’s smile deepened. “Get Ligur. We’ve got a plan of action,” 

“Of course my lord,” 

-

“Angel!” Crowley called out, catching Aziraphale’s attention. 

Aziraphale walked out into the garden, quickly going to Crowley. “What is it my dear?” 

“M’going out for a bit,” Crowley said. “Would you mind coming with me?” 

Aziraphale bit her lip. “Well, I’d love to but, the city, it’s all-” 

“We’re not going there,” Crowley interrupted. “We’re going somewhere quiet, promise. Be pleased if you came with, kept me company, stuff,” 

Aziraphale smiled a bit. “Well, I guess I could spare a bit of time, not too much, Gabriel-” 

“I’ll stop you there,” Crowley said. “I know the rules, home before dark, no hickeys, got it all,” Crowley held back a laugh when Aziraphale flushed. “We won’t be long,” It was a lie, but it didn’t matter, Crowley could manipulate time, somewhat. 

“So, you coming?” 

Aziraphale smiled. “Of course,” 

-

“Wake up Jeremiel,” 

“Come on, get up,” 

_ “Now,”  _

Jeremiel stirred finally. She flipped over, expecting Crowley to be standing there, a soft smile even for a demon on her face. 

“Ah, there you are,” The Archangel Michael said. “You know, even for being such a useless angel, I almost expected better from you. Sleeping in a demon’s bed? So low, even for you,” 

Jeremiel’s eyes widened, and she shot up and away from Michael. 

“Dear, there’s no use running,” Michael sighed. “You’ve already betrayed Heaven, I can smell the demon on you. Just count yourself lucky that you won’t be Falling, you’ll at least die with a little slice of your dignity left,” 

Jeremiel hissed. She had to get out, away, warn Crowley, something just get away-

“You could use a little more sleep,” Michael snapped her fingers, and Jeremiel felt her consciousness slipping. It was no use fighting, she fell to the floor with a heavy thud. 

“How disappointing,” Michael picked Jeremiel up, carrying her away. 

-

“C’mon angel, I know you can!” 

“Oh, Crowley, I couldn’t,” 

Crowley shook her head. “I can’t either angel. Just, humor me? Dance with me for one song? Just one?” She extended her hand, an invitation to slip into her temptation. As sinless as the temptation might’ve been. 

“...Just one?” 

“Promise,” Crowley said. 

“Oh, alright,” Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and was promptly pulled in and dipped. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale squeaked. 

“What? Told you I was no good at dancing,” Crowley teased. 

“Oh, you demon,” Aziraphale laughed. “Absolutely devilish,” 

“You don’t even know,” 

-

A song melted into two, and then into three, and further as they forgot about the promise made earlier. The Bentley was a true friend, and kept the music playing low as her demon and human danced. She had started playing ‘You’re My Best Friend’ which had been a part of a Velvet Underground album while Crowley was distracted. 

“This is really nice, you know,” Crowley admitted. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, just, spending time with you, here, unbothered, it’s nice,” Crowley said. “Not that I’m nice, or anything like that,” 

Aziraphale laughed softly. “Of course my dear. I do agree though, I like being here with you, it’s very nice,” 

Crowley wished it could stay like this, unbothered and gentle. No fears of bosses that come with dangerous consequences if you stepped out of line, no weight of Falling, no past to hold. The moment, just them, there, dancing as the Bentley played something quiet, in it, living it. A moment where they weren’t a demon and a nun meant to be tempted, they were just them. If it could only last. 

The sun was setting quick, only an hour out from setting. 

They had stopped moving at some point, Crowley didn’t know when. They were so close, Crowley wondered if Aziraphale could see her eyes, the mark of a demon she couldn’t hide. 

God, she wanted to pull Aziraphale closer. The gap between them was so little but so wide at the same time. She didn’t do it, or voice it, but how she yearned for it. God had to put something she wanted but couldn’t have in front of her, didn’t She? A fruit, a woman, Crowley’s fall would be the same thing that brought her here. It was so terribly ironic. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if possible!


	27. A Fierce Gale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fierce gale is blowing this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM BACK FUCK YES. @lunarmultishine helped so so much with this please go give her love she's on tumblr with that url and on Ao3 with blazelightshine.

Going back to the church was the worst thing that came with taking Aziraphale out. Not in a romantic way, though Crowley definitely wouldn’t mind if it was. Bringing her home, back to the pit of wolves, after being so close to getting her away, Crowley could have swallowed holy water and it might’ve hurt less. 

“Crowley, wait here for a moment, if you would?” Aziraphale asked once they had pulled up. 

“Sure thing angel, what’s up?” 

“Just, wait here,” Aziraphale ran off, slowing to a walk just short of the door. 

Crowley laughed. “I’m smitten Bentley,” She took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. “You know that already, probably. God, I’m an idiot aren’t I?” 

The Bentley honked in agreement. 

“Shush, you’re going to frighten her,” Crowley chided. “But hey, if it scares Gabriel, do it again,” 

Crowley put her sunglasses back on as Aziraphale came back, a pair of crutches in hand. 

“You left them in the garden,” Aziraphale said as she opened Crowley’s door for her. “I know you think you’re fine, and I don’t want to overstep, I just want to make sure you’re okay, and it’d make me feel better if you used them,” 

“Don’t worry angel,” Crowley smiled as she took them, and stood. “Need someone to make sure I take care of myself, at least it’s what I’m told,” 

Aziraphale smiled, relaxed. “Do you want to go to the garden?” 

“Sure, I think I’ve got some new flowers for you to see,” Crowley smiled and walked by Aziraphale. 

Now, it was never proven if it were by Heavenly forces or by Hellish forces, even Divine forces, that a strong wind blew across while they were walking, and it’s still disputed to this day. But it doesn’t matter who, in the end. The result was the same. A fierce gale ran across, catching Crowley’s sunglasses and taking them a good foot or so away. 

“Ah, fuck,”

“I’ll get them for you,” Aziraphale went and picked them up and dusting them off with her sleeve. “That wind came out of nowhere dear, didn’t it? Here, let me-” She suddenly stopped speaking. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, temporarily unaware. “What’s with the look, what’s wrong?” 

“Y-your,” Aziraphale swallowed. “Your  _ eyes _ ,” 

Crowley’s stomach twisted sickly with the realization. “Hey, hey, it’s-it isn’t what it looks like, Aziraphale please don’t look at me like that-” 

Crowley tried stepping closer and Aziraphale stepped back. 

“Aziraphale, angel, this, this is just a condition this isn’t what it looks like,” Crowley begged. 

_ “What are you?”  _

Crowley wanted to be sick, or to wake up, she didn’t know anymore. This couldn’t- of course it was happening. She’d been too careless, too stuck in the clouds, she had really thought she could always hide it, that she wouldn’t slip up. Hell, even if she could've, what would happen if she ever got close to Aziraphale, like she wanted? It was always going to come to this, God she should’ve been ready but here she was, exposed and not ready at all. 

“I-I’m not what you thought I am,” Crowley admitted. There was no point in lying, why even try? 

“What are you?” Aziraphale asked again, the sunglasses no longer in her hand, they were on the ground, when had they dropped? It didn’t matter, she was clutching the cross around her neck, Crowley almost laughed at it, almost. 

“Isn’t it obvious Aziraphale?” Crowley laughed dryly. “You should know me, you’ve read that blessed book a thousand times by now haven’t you?” 

“No,” Aziraphale shook. “You can’t, no, you can’t be!” 

“I am Aziraphale!” Crowley hissed. “Put the bloody cross down angel, they don’t work, not on me at least. I’m not gonna hurt you anyway, I hope you know that,” 

“I-I, how?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Don’t you fucking know?” It was too harsh, Crowley was lashing out like a cornered animal. “Fell from bloody grace because I didn’t follow the rules. I didn’t play nice and so I crashed down at a million light years an hour into a burning pit. I’m a fucking demon, there I fucking said it,” Crowley looked up, “You fucking happy?” 

Aziraphale was speechless. This couldn’t be Crowley, could it? It couldn’t be her, this couldn’t be the person who held her so tenderly and ate oranges from her fingers. Could it?

“Angel?” 

Aziraphale ran, this wasn’t her Crowley. No. But it was. Crowley wasn’t who she thought she was. Of course she was too good to be true, everything always was. Why, excuse her language, did it fucking have to be this way? 

She ran, ran into the arms of Father Gabriel, who accepted her willingly. And pulled her tight against himself. 

“What has you running like this Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“Crowley, she-she,” Aziraphale began crying. “She lied Father, she lied about who she was,” 

Father Gabriel seemed to understand, gently shushing her and walking her to her room. “Oh, Aziraphale, my dear, of course she did,” 

“What?” 

“She was always a snake in the garden,” Gabriel sat Aziraphale on her knees below him, petting her hair. “She was going to hurt you, it was going to happen, of course. You were practically begging for it as well. It’s no matter now, you’re back with us now, you know better, and we’ll keep you safe,” 

“It hurts so much,” Aziraphale set her head on his knees, giving the appearance that she was praying. And in fact she was. “Please, let it stop,” 

“I wish I could Aziraphale,” 

-

“That was some damn fine tempting my lord,” 

Beelzebub barked a laugh. “Pleazzze, that wasn’t tempting. I zzzzimply told him what to zzzay, exactly, probably would’ve said it on hizz own, just took advantage of the situation and pushed it,” 

“Still,” Dagon remarked. “You did a good job of it. Now, what are you planning to do next, my lord?” 

“Well, she’zzz already beginning to zzzway against Crowley, well, I could alwayzz give her another little nudge, maybe a fellow demon telling her what the bastard’zz done would help?”

“Ah, but she lied about those, didn’t she?” 

“Doezzn’t matter, zzzhe doezzzn’t know,” Beelzebub laughed. 

“And Michael, she won’t be pleased with the, more emotional approach,”

“Ah, fuck it, I’ll let her get in a few hitzzz, zzzhe could scuff up the nun, beat the snake into a pulp, juzzzt can’t kill either,” 

“This is going to be amazing,” Dagon grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. 

“No fuckin’ doubt Dagon,” 


	28. ....Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can I say except FUCK-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER UPDATE WHAT IS THISSS???

Aziraphale was awake, it was far too late for her to be awake, but there wasn’t any way she was sleeping. Her heart ached, it shouldn’t have but it did, if only he could wake up and pretend none of this happened; that none of this happened. 

“Hey angel,” 

Aziraphale instantly shot up at the sound of the voice, looking for its source. It wasn’t Crowley, was it? “Crowley?” 

“Pft, no chance,” Beelzebub laughed, dropping from the ceiling to the end of the bed. “Though, I’m zzzure you wouldn’t be pleazzzed to zzzee her, bazztard, keeping you in the dark like that,” 

Aziraphale felt slightly inclined to agree with them, but not entirely, not yet. “Who are you?” 

“Name’zzz Beelzebub, one of the zzzeven princezz of Hell and your dear redhead’zz bozzz,” Beelzebub held out their hand, and retracted it with a laugh when Aziraphale didn’t take it. “Fair fair, know better than to shake demon handzz don’t you?” 

“Why are you here?” 

“Ah, full of questionzzz aren’t you?” Beelzebub asked. “Remindzzz me of someone. Whatever, I’m juzzt trying to help you out here, I’m sure you’d like to know if Crowley’zz really as bad azzz demons seem to be, eh?” 

Aziraphale swallowed nervously. “And-and why should I trust you?”

“Hey, juzzt pazzzing on information,” Beelzebub said. “A fellow demon to a human in need, don’t you worry about me angel,” 

“Don’t call me angel, p-please,” Aziraphale looked torn for a moment, before timidly asking, “What...what do you know?” 

“Oh lotzzz of thingzzz,” Beelzebub said. “What would you like to know?” 

“What has Crowley done?” 

“Oh, where to begin?” Beelzebub grinned, a predator about to dig into their prey. 

-

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck  _ fuckkkkkk _ ! 

Crowley flopped onto her bed, groaning deeply into the pillow. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Satan, why didn’t She just kill her already? It would have been the merciful path for a merciful God. But She wasn’t merciful, another fucking lie. 

Part of her wanted to stay here for years, and years, and years, let the church crumble around her and the vines and plants crawl in and wrap around her. Let her fucking mistake of a corporation that brought her here be claimed by the insects. It wouldn’t be the first time, at least sleeping for that long, or the plants, the bugs were new though. 

She wouldn’t of course, maybe wait another decade or two, wait for everything to cool off, run away from the problem like always. Then she’d show her face again. Stupid idea, no garuntee Aziraphale would even survive that long. Or that she’d even want the see the mistake of a demon after so long. 

“Just kill me already,” Crowley mumbled. 

“I would gladly do so, but I’m afraid that would be breaking my agreement,” 

Crowley hissed and shot up, falling back to her knees when her weight was placed on her feet. Shit, she’d gotten distracted, time to pick that act back up, if she could. 

“Michael? Oh fuck you!” Crowley groaned. “Go suck a fat one won’t you?” 

“Vulgar as ever it seems,” The Archangel sighed. “No matter, I think I can shut you up,” She reached behind her and threw forward Jeremiel, half conscious and bleeding from her head, silver running down her face. 

“Oh-oh my fucking Sat-Go-somebody!” Crowley had forgotten something, of course she had, and that something had been rudely shoved back in front of her. She tried to grab Jeremiel but Michael knocked her back and picked the limp angel up again. 

“F-Fuck,” Crowley tried to catch her breath. 

“I know you’ve always been one to go for low hanging fruit Crowley, but my-” Michael gripped Jeremiel’s neck tight, forcing a strangled groan from her. “I wasn’t even aware of how low you could go. Jeremiel? Lord, were you even trying?’ 

“Let-let her go,” Crowley hissed. “You have no business with her, don’t touch her,” 

“Aw, pretending to care about her?” Michael teased. “I know you’re trying not to be cruel but it’s quite the opposite. Oh, or do you really care? Lord, this will be better than I thought,” 

“What are you doing?” Crowley hissed and stood, baring teeth and flashing claws. 

“Oh, sit down you,” Michael pulled a length of rope from the air and whipped it around Crowley, tying the demon up. “Lucky thing the forgers had extra heavenly rope,” 

Crowley’s skin burned, the floor and the ropes combined making her writhe on the floor like an injured snake. 

“As I said  _ Crawley _ , my agreement with your bosses makes it so I can’t kill you, unfortunately,” Michael began. 

“A-agreement?” Crowley hissed. “What fucking ag-agreement?” 

“Daft demon,” Michael sighed. “I made an agreement with your bosses to punish you for your straying from Hell, and as I said, if you’d shut up, that I cannot kill you because of this, but I can play around with you, and this here traitor,” She shook Jeremiel a bit. “But just how to play with you? Let me think....” Her face lit up in dark excitement. “I know a way…” 

“What are you planning you sick fucker Wank-Wings?” 

“I think you have slacked off in praying, have you not Crowley?” Michael asked. “Why don’t we fix that? You start praying, and every time you mess up or stop, I do something you won’t like watching to your precious little traitor,” 

_ “Don’t do it,” _ Jeremiel mouthed to Crowley, hoping that she saw. 

Crowley shook her head. Couldn’t let Jeremiel die for her mistakes, for nothing, for being out of line. “How do you want me to start?” 

“As you usually do,” 

_ “Stop, stop, don’t do it. Stop, for me. Don’t do it, for me. Disobey you idiot,” _ Jeremiel mouthed urgently, there was no way in this world or in Hell or even Heaven that she was letting Crowley make her ending be like this. Begging and praying for forgiveness that wasn’t going to be given. The realization sobered her, in a way, this was the end of it. This was going to be how she died, she was going to die. At least she could go with a scream, not a whimper. 

Crowley sighed, she couldn’t say yes, but there was no way to say no. “God? You listening up there? I know You were busy all those years ago, striking down Your bastardous children, could’ve lost track of one easily. I think I found them, yeah, good old Wank-wings over here, missed her,” 

“Idiot,” Michael pushed her sword into Jeremiel’s chest. “Try again,” 

“Assuming You’re still listening, another thing, Michael is really fucking annoying, I know I could talk a lot but Jesus, no offense Jesus, but she’s a pain in the arse, seriously,” Crowley almost smiled at Michael’s very pissed look. 

“Wrong again,” Michael pushed the sword into Jeremiel’s stomach. “One more chance,” 

“Go fuck yourself Michael,” Crowley hissed. 

“Fool,” Michael pushed the sword through Jeremiel’s neck, silver blood coated the blade and Michael. Jeremiel gasped, choking on her own blood. She looked over at Crowley one last time, smiling despite it. 

_ “Thank you,”  _ Jeremiel mouthed, blood dripping. She didn’t last long after that, going limp and still after the words had been uttered. 

“I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done,” Michael dropped Jeremiel’s body on the bed, it was so careless, one might’ve thought she’d only discorporated. But she hadn’t, that was a holy blade. She was gone. 

Michael picked Crowley up, seeing the tears in the demon’s eyes. “Weak and a fool, no wonder you got her executed, no wonder you lost the nun, idiot,” Michael slammed Crowley’s head against the wall, and dropped her, before leaving silently. 

Crowley could almost compare her level of pain to Falling, but it still wasn’t even close. She wanted to get up, but the ropes and head injuries she had just sustained kept her down, and she was about to pass out. She could only hope no one would open that door, that Michael had locked it. That the ropes wouldn’t eat her up. 

She passed out before she could finish another thought. The lucky survivor that could’ve been mistaken for dead. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! You made it to the end! Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you can, please leave a comment below! Whether it be criticism, keyboard smash, or just a little heart, I will be overjoyed!


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